


The end of die hard

by neworld



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Needs a Hug, Sick Character, Sickfic, episode 92, everyone blames Jon, nothing besides remains, sick Jonathan Sims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 88,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24752827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neworld/pseuds/neworld
Summary: I wanted to write a fic about what happened just after #92 Nothing besides remains.  Jon is pretty messed up by the end of this episode, his hand was recently burned, he gets tortured by Mike Crew, he get’s dragged out into the woods by Daisy were he witnesses Mike being killed and is nearly killed himself.  He has a cut on his throat and was made to dig a grave for Mike, which can’t have been great for his burned hand.  Then he has a really intense confrontation with Elias who confirms he is becoming an avatar.  So he must be in pretty rough shape all round.  Georgie later says he looks like the end of Die Hard.  I just want him to have some care and love.  And I made him get sick too because of who I am as a person...
Comments: 567
Kudos: 555





	1. Chapter 1

After Elias had dismissed them Martin went back to the archives with the other archival assistants and the two ex-police officers. He hadn’t wanted to just leave Jon there, with Elias, Jon had looked horribly vulnerable, ashen and drawn with stress and fatigue. His ever-present bags beneath his eyes darker than ever and obvious untreated injuries. But Martin was hardly in a position to argue with Elias.

He hated himself a bit though, for leaving so easily, docile and compliant like the weak, soft person he was. 

They all slumped onto various office chairs and desks in the archives. Melanie looked dazed, Martin supposed she probably had not realised until this moment quite how much trouble she was really in, how trapped she was in the institute.

Tim’s face was cloudy with suppressed anger and bitter resignation.

Basira and Daisy were quiet. They stood off to the side from the others, Daisy was looking at Basira with a troubled, guilty expression. Basira was just looking at the ground, her face giving nothing away, deep in thought.

Martin felt a surge of righteous anger at the two of them. They were police, they were meant to protect people. Whatever they had done to Jon had clearly not been protection.

“What the hell did you do to Jon?” He snapped at Daisy.

Daisy turned to him and looked blank for a second, like she wasn’t sure what he was asking, then she just shrugged, unconcerned.

“It’s just a cut, nothing serious.” She dismissed.

Basira barely glanced at him, then went back to her thoughts.

“Oh that’s fine then.” Martin rolled his eyes, his tone caustically sarcastic. “Why did you cut his throat at all?” 

Daisy glared at him now and took a step towards him. Martin tensed, his anger had clouded his judgment but now he was remembering what an intimidating person Daisy was.

“Don’t act like he’s some innocent damsel.” She growled at him. “You have to know he isn’t human.”

“He isn’t?” Melanie asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

Martin shook his head angrily.

“Of course he is.”

Tim scoffed bitterly.

“He was trying to do that thing to me.” Daisy continued. “You know, where he forces you to tell him things.” She shrugged again. “He got off lightly really.”

Tim looked at her sharply, then at Martin who just shrugged helplessly, it was news to him too.

“Daisy.” Basira interrupted. “Not now. We should go.” She gave Daisy a meaningful look and the other woman nodded. 

Martin thought of stopping them, demanding more answers. But he decided quickly that he preferred they leave.

The remaining archive staff sat in tense silence for a moment.

“Why didn’t anyone warn me?” Melanie asked numbly.

Tim raised an eyebrow at her.

“We tried.” Martin told her tiredly. “You thought we were just being sexist.”

Melanie glared at him.

“You didn’t try very hard.” She muttered.

“Would you have believed us if we had just told you everything?” Tim asked her.

He barely even sounded like Tim anymore, Martin though sadly. All the life and humour stripped from his voice.

Melanie scowled irritably.

Then Jon stumbled back to the archives and everyone looked up at him, he froze at the sudden focus of six eyes, like he was caught in a spotlight. He looked if anything worse than he had when he first arrived that evening, he had looked terrible but he had at least been filled with a almost manic energy. A savage, righteous drive.

Now he just looked exhausted, shaking visibly, face drawn and pinched with pain, covered in mud, hair and clothes damp and messy with a few twigs and pine needles caught in his erratic locks. He looked like he had been dragged through a hedge then possibly into a ditch. His right hand was bandaged but blood was seeping through and the bandage was muddy and worn. The fresh cut on his throat was still bleeding sluggishly into his shirt, completely untreated. 

“Jon…” Martin began but Tim interrupted him.

“How long have you known about Sasha?” Tim’s voice was low and accusing.

Jon winced, like he had been struck.

“Tim…” Martin said weakly, but Tim easily silenced him with a glare.

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” Jon began, eyes downcast.

“How long?” Tim repeated acidly.

Jon sighed slumped like a physical weight was pushing him down.

“Since just before, the uh…before Jurgen Leitner… I realised the table in artifact storage was connected to the… that thing that replaced her, I thought I could stop it by destroying the table.” Jon stammered out an explanation.

Tim’s expression did not soften.

“Sasha was killed by a table?” Melanie asked puzzled.

“No by a monster that was…trapped…bound to a table.” Jon explained, scrunching his brow and rubbing at his temples.

Melanie raised her eyebrows, her mouth a thin grim line, she looked like she wanted to ask further questions but Tim didn’t give her a chance.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us?” Tim fumed at Jon.

“I...I didn’t want to involve you… I wanted-” Jon began but Tim cut him off.

“I swear to god Jon if you say you were trying to protect us I’m going to punch you straight in your stupid pompous face.” Tim seethed.

“Tim!” Martin objected. “Stop it, he-“ But Tim cut Martin off too.

“Do you even know what happened to us that day?” Tim asked Jon angrily. “Martin and I were chased around some crazy, supernatural hallways by a guy with giant knife hands.” Tim raged. 

Jon blanched at this.

“So great work on protecting us boss.” Tim concluded acidly. “A plus."

Jon sagged, looking completely defeated.

Melanie mouthed “knife hands?” at Martin who just pursed his lips. 

“I’m sorry.” Jon repeated, his tone pleading.

“Are you? Because it doesn’t seem like you were going to do anything differently going forward. Apparently, you have… _abilities_ now? Planning on telling us about that anytime soon?” Tim asked.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you.” Jon told him, a note of irritability slipping back into his tone. “It just..I only found out about it recently.”

“Of course, you were going to fill us all in, right after you let us know you didn’t murder that old man in your office and warn us that Elias is actually a homicidal maniac.” Tim’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Jon began to answer but had to stop and quickly throw his uninjured arm across his face to smother two rapid sneezes.

Melanie surprised everyone by blessing him, including it seemed herself from the way she scowled to herself afterwards.

“I didn’t know for sure until…” Jon began but had to stop and sneeze again, this time so forcefully he staggered a little.

“You should change into some dry clothes.” Martin told him sympathetically, not even caring about the scornful looks that bought him from Melanie and Tim. He’d rather be thought of as doting and pathetic than be as callous as the two of them were being right now.

“Why are you covered in mud anyway?” Tim asked Jon irritably and with perhaps just a touch of begrudging concern. 

Jon shivered and looked down at himself with an exasperated scowl. 

“Daisy uh... _insisted_ I go with her into the woods and …uh...made me dig a grave.” Jon told them, his voice sounded dull, like he wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying.

“This is the only pair of shoes I have too.” He added morosely, frowning at his mud drenched and ruined footwear.

“She made you dig your own grave?” Martin asked freshly horrified at the implication of the wound at Jon’s throat.

“No, the grave was for Mike Crew…From statement 999106 and stat…”

“No one remembers statements by their numbers.” Tim snapped.

Jon blinked at him owlishly for a beat.

“Er, right of course not, the man with the lightning scar? Threw a person off a building in Paris?” Jon tried.

“This is all too much.” Melanie said suddenly, shaking her head. “I’m getting a drink.”

She grabbed her bag and coat aggressively as she left, slamming the door behind her.

“First good idea anyone has had all day.” Tim muttered and stalked off after her.

When they left Jon just stood there for a moment, looking down at his muddy clothes, frowning and swaying a little.

He looked shocky, Martin thought, and like he was about to pass out at any moment.

“Jon?” He said tentatively to get the man’s attention without startling him.

Jon dragged him gaze from his clothes over to Martin. He hummed vaguely in response.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” Martin asked him kindly.

Jon blinked slowly, like he was trying to process what Martin was asking.

“Yes.” He said after a slightly longer than comfortable pause.

“Yes I am staying with a friend.” He told Martin. “An old friend…Georgie.” He went back to looking at his muddy shoes and frowning vaguely.

“Ok…well let’s get you a cab then.” Martin realised Jon seemed to be at his limit, unable to deal with anything else that day, including getting back to this “Georgie’s” house.

Jon let Martin lead him through the building to the entrance and into a cab. He mumbled the address numbly and seemed so out off it that Martin worried he would not make it from the cab to the door of Georgie’s apartment and opted to just go with him. 

The fact that Jon didn’t even question this just proved to Martin it was necessary. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin and Georgie meet and mutually decide Jon can't take care of himself and needs some help.

Jon didn't say anything on the taxi ride to Georgie's and Martin didn't press him to. Martin watched him furtively from the corner of his eye, concerned with the faint purple tinge to his lips. Was he hypothermic? Surely it wasn't cold enough for that? Maybe he was in shock though....that made sense with everything he had been through, and how out of it he was acting, so uncharacteristically passive. 

Jon sat there in the cab, staring blankly at the seat in front of him, sniffling quietly and bouncing his leg arrhythmically. It was a nervous gesture Martin had seen him do many times when he was stressed. He didn't seem all that aware of what was going on as Martin guided him gently out of the taxi to the front door.

"Do you have a key or should we knock?" Martin asked carefully after he had just stood there staring at the door like he wasn't sure what it was for almost a minute.

Jon blinked hard like he was coming out of a daze.

"The taxi...?" He mumbled, confused. "How did...?" He frowned and gestured helplessly at Martin.

"I'll pay you back..."

Martin was quick to assure him.

"We'll sort it out later, let's just get you inside." He told Jon, deciding to just knock on the door himself.

The door was answered very quickly by a woman who immediately filled Martin with a confusing mix of jealousy and appreciation. She was pretty in a way that, if not conventional Martin could certainly see and admire, round and warm and generous with kind eyes that instantly widened in shock at seeing Jon in such a pitiful state. 

"Jon! What the fuck!" She gasped, practically dragging the two of them into her apartment. 

"Georgie...I...um...this is Martin." Jon stammered, gesturing to Martin then cringing like he knew how badly he was explaining himself but clearly unable to do any better.

Georgie's eyes flickered over Martin, she nodded, brief and dismissive, then went back to Jon.

"What the hell happened to you?" She demanded. 

Jon bit his lip, looking conflicted.

"I have been trying to sort things out with work." He said hesitantly.

Georgie did not look appeased. 

"Where have you been though?" She asked looked between Martin and Jon angrily. "You just disappeared for five days, now you show up looking like the end of die hard! What happened to your hand? And your neck? And your clothes?"

Jon shuffled uncomfortably at all this.

"Oh your carpet, I should..." He began awkwardly trying to take his shoes off but swayed dangerously and Martin had to grab him by the upper arm to stop him falling over. Jon felt so cold and tense Martin tried to interrupt Georgie to point out they should deal with Jon's immediate concerns first, then interrogate him later. 

"Whatever is happening is clearly bad. I think it is time to involve the police." Georgie said firmly steamrolling over Martin's stammered attempt at interrupting.

Jon barked out a humorless, gravely laugh. 

"Trust me, the police won't help." He told her.

Georgie threw her hands up in frustration.

"What does that _mean_?" She asked, clearly exasperated with him. 

"I..." Jon floundered, looking to Martin for help. Martin assumed he just looked sad and worried and had no better idea what to tell Georgie than Jon did. 

"It's better you don't get involved..." Jon began cautiously.

"Well tough shit I'm already involved." Georgie snapped.

"You won't believe me. You'll think I'm delusional." He told her miserably.

"I really hope so Jon because right now I just think you're a dickhead."

Jon sighed deeply, seeming to deflate a bit more. Martin still had an hand on his shoulder for support and felt him lean a bit more weight against him. He could feel Jon trembling. 

"I think you should tell her." Martin said suddenly. And he believed it, Georgie seemed like a strong and sensible person, and they needed all the allies they could get. 

"Finally a sensible person." Georgie said warmly, giving Martin her full attention for the first time.

"Who are you exactly?"

"Martin is my... _archival assistant_." Jon told her, rushing the last words to get them out before he sneezed harshly, nearly unbalancing again.

"Please Georgie..." Martin pinned her with his concerned eyes.

"He has been through a lot and I think he could be in shock, he needs to get warm and dry as soon as possible."

Jon started to say something, probably a ridiculous instance that he was fine, but couldn't even get out a syllable before he sneezed again.

This did spur Georgie into action though.

"Yes, right." She agreed, ushering Jon through to her bathroom.

"Shower and change into dry clothes then you can explain what is going on." 

Georgie gave Jon a pair of her old flannel pajamas and a clean towel.

"Are you alright to shower by yourself?" She asked him firmly. "Be honest, I don't want you passing out in there and drowning."

Jon insisted he would be fine.

As soon as he shut the bathroom door Georgie rounded on Martin for answers.

"OK so what the fuck is going on?" She demanded, gently ushering Martin to her couch to sit down as she grilled him for answers.

Martin sighed deeply.

"What do you know already?" He asked timidly. "Did he tell you about Jane Prentiss?"

"He has told me infuriatingly little about anything!" Georgie groaned. "Who is Jane Prentiss?"

Faced with the prospect of explaining the flesh hive Martin suddenly realized why Jon had been hesitant. Georgie must have seen the hesitance in his features because she softened and reassured him. 

"Please tell me, I just want to know, I'm not going to judge you." Her tone was patient and her eyes were kind so Martin broke down and explained about the worms and being locked in his apartment by a sentient mass of supernatural insects and then the attack on the institute. 

"Oh Martin, that's awful, I'm so sorry that happened to you." Georgie told him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Martin blushed.

"It's fine really, I'm fine. I got out without a scratch, not like Jon, and Tim." He told her sadly. "They were pretty badly hurt."

Georgie's eyes were so big and round with fascination and horror.

"That's how he got all the...?"

Martin nodded grimly.

Georgie couldn't suppress a shudder at the thought. 

"And his hand?" She asked.

Martin frowned and shrugged.

"I'm not sure about that." He admitted. 

"He has been missing for days, our boss, Elias Bouchard, murdered a man in Jon's office and Jon just fled without saying anything." 

Georgie gasped.

"Yeah." Martin agreed. "It was pretty horrible."

"He _murdered_ a man?" Georgie hissed, horrified.

"Yeah, he admitted to it tonight, he also killed the former archivist." Martin told her.

"Jon told me he had to leave because of a work dispute." Georgie said numbly.

"Well...I guess that is one way of describing it." Martin sighed.

"Why won't he go to the police?" Georgie asked.

Martin grimaced.

"That cut on his throat was from the police." Martin told her.

Georgie gasped.

"What?! Why?!" She looked frantic. "Why would they do that."

Martin had just finished explaining about sectioned officers and how scary detective Tonner had been, how she had seemed more intent on finding a target than solving the actual murder, when Jon emerged from the bathroom. 

He looked a lot better, the purple tinge to his lips that had so worried Martin was gone and he looked more cozy and sleepy in Georgie's clothes but still worn and small.

Georgie jumped up at the sight of him and ushered him over to the couch next to Martin.

"Sit." She ordered.

"Martin will dress your injuries and I will dry your hair."

Jon tried to stammer out some kind off insistence he didn't need help but he was easily ignored.

Georgie fetched a first aid kit and a hairdryer she handed the kit to Martin and set to drying Jon's hair.

Martin started with Jon's neck, it wasn't bleeding anymore, but was still the most upsetting injury as far as he was concerned. It was just such a vulnerable location for an injury. He tentatively cleaned the wound with a alcohol wipe, wincing as Jon flinched with pain and sensitivity. 

When the wound was clean he carefully fixed a sterile dressing over the cut and moved on to the hand.

It was actually a much worse injury, but the location made it seem less pressing, less terrifying. 

On the front of his hand were several unburst blisters that didn't look too bad, but the palm of his hand was a horrible raw mess. Martin applied some antiseptic cream as carefully as he possibly could but Jon still flinched in pain and Martin felt it like a knife in his heart. 

"Sorry." He told Jon earnestly.

Jon just nodded, biting his lip.

"How did that happen?" Georgie asked, gently tussling his hair as she blow dried it, finger combing the tangles. 

Jon sighed and swallowed hard.

"Can I tell you about it later?" He asked. He looked so exhausted, his eyes struggling to stay open.

"OK Sims." Georgie relented. 

"Tonight you can rest. But tomorrow you are explaining yourself." 


	3. Chapter 3

Martin tried not to feel jealous of Georgie, he liked her and there was probably no real need for it. But seeing her interact with Jon, the obvious fondness they had for each other, it tugged painfully at his ego. Seeing how tactile Jon allowed Geogie to be with him, letting her tousle his hair as she dried it, seeing him lean into the comforting arm slung around his shoulders as she led him off to the guest room to sleep, filled Martin with envy.

But Martin did like Georgie at lot, and want to be friends with her, she was so kind, brushing aside his mumbling about how he should leave with practiced ease and insisting they order some food together instead.

"How do you feel about Hungarian?" She asked him and seemed positively delighted when he agreed it was fine.

As they ate she couldn't seem to help but grill him for more information on what was going on. He couldn't blame her really. Jon never explained anything and he knew how infuriating it was. 

"Why don't you all leave?" Georgie asked him cautiously between bites of Pörkölt. 

"I know Jon probably thinks he needs to stay to protect everyone but what if you all leave? It doesn't seem like a safe place for anyone to work at." 

Martin sighed. 

"We can't leave." He told her sadly. "We're all trapped there." 

"Why though? Are they threatening you?" Georgie pressed.

"Well...yes...but also it's like we are bound to the institute, Tim tried to leave, but he got sicker the longer he was away and had no choice but to come back." Martin told her and grimaced at the memory of how pale and shaky Tim had been when he stumbled back into the institute after his defiant holiday.

"It's like we are dependent on it to stay alive now."

Georgie bit her lip, looking worried.

"All the Magnus institute staff?" She asked.

"Um...not sure?" Martin shrugged, he didn't know about the wider institute really. "All the archive staff definitely." 

Georgie looked pained.

"Why do you ask?" Martin questioned.

"I have another friend who just started working there." Georgie told him.

"Basira?" Martin asked surprised. "No can't be, that just happened. Melanie?"

Georgie nodded sadly. 

"I don't like the idea of anyone I care about being caught up in this place." She told Martin.

"No, it's not...I can empathize." Martin sighed, understanding. 

When they finished eating they debated the relative merits on waking Jon up to make him eat something or just letting him sleep. When he had last eaten was anyone's guess but he looked deeply exhausted even in sleep and didn't react when Georgie called his name softly. They decided on letting him rest. Georgie also insisted that Martin stay the night on her sofa, that he shouldn't be alone after a day like he's just had. Martin had to admit she was right. He had been dreading going home to his dreary one bedroom flat. Despite the almost oppressive lack of space in the apartment it did feel very empty with just him there.

Martin woke up the next day to a slap in the face by a soft, warm paw. He blinked in confusion for a moment as his fuzzy mind reconstructed where he was and what he was looking at. A fluffy black and white cat was sitting on his chest and staring expectantly into his face. He blinked at the cat for a beat prompting it to repeat the swift smack to his face with it's soft padded paw, adding an insistent meow. 

"Oh, good morning." He greeting the cat.

The cat meowed again and jumped off him chest, trotting purposefully towards the kitchen. It stopped and looked back to Martin with another sharp wail when it noticed he wasn't following.

"Did you want something?" Martin asked the cat, bemused. 

He hauled himself off the sofa and followed the cat into the kitchen. It stood before a bright red bowl, half full of cat food and wailed plaintively at Martin.

"Only half full?" Martin asked the cat sympathetically. 

"Well that is just outrageous." 

The cat meowed in agreement.

Martin poked around the kitchen until he found more cat food and filled the bowl. Satisfied the cat ignored him and began to eat. Martin smiled at the animal and went back to the sofa, it was very early and he was still pleasantly sleepy. He had barely settled back down when Jon shuffled out from the guest room, looking completely ridiculously with wild bed hair and wearing a blanket like a cape.

Martin's heart did something funny at the sight of Jon all adorably sleep ruffled and bleary eyed.

"Martin?" He asked around a yawn. "You're still here?"

Martin crushed down the warm feelings with the fear that Jon was annoyed that he had stayed. 

"I...um...Georgie asked me to stay over." Martin stammered.

Jon didn't seemed annoyed, more confused, and maybe not at Martin specifically, he just still seemed half asleep. He scrubbed his hand over his face and frowned vaguely around at the poorly lit room.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Martin asked him cautiously.

"Hmmm?" Jon looked up at Martin, hazily, eyes struggling to focus.

"Fine, I'm fine..." His face crumpled and he pulled his blanketed arm over his face quickly as he sneezed harshly three times. The sneezes triggered a round of congested, painful sounding coughs.

"Oh yeah, you sound great." Martin smirked at him.  


Jon huffed, it triggered more coughs and he slumped, defeated onto the sofa next to Martin.

"OK, maybe I do feel a little under the weather."He admitted begrudgingly. 

"Uh huh." Martin agreed amicably, shoving over to give Jon more room to slump.

The cat wandered back into the room and jumped immediately into Jon's lap.

"Have you met The Admiral?" Jon asked Martin, a fond amusement colouring his voice that Martin didn't think he had ever heard from Jon before. 

"Yeah he woke me up punching me in the face to give him some cat food." Martin told Jon, grinning. So Jon was a cat person, that made sense.

"Oh he'll do that." Jon agreed, he sounded proud, smiling at the cat like it had achieved something admirable.  


Georgie appeared in the doorway, yawning to advertise her presence.

"Don't give into that monsters demands." She muttered glaring at the cat.

"Honestly the lies he tells!"

Jon chuckled but it set him off coughing again.

Georgie frowned and hummed, rubbing Jon's back as she walked past him with a familiar tactile ease that again send a sharp pang of jealousy through Martin despite himself. 

"You sound terrible." She told him sympathetically.

"It's nothing." Jon told her between coughs. 

"Uh huh." Georgie said blandly as she walked pat them into the kitchen.

"Tea? Martin how do you take your's?" She asked from the other room.

Because obviously she knew how Jon took his, Martin though,t trying to shove down the voice of jealousy again. 

"White with one." Martin told her. 

"Need help?" He added. Georgie's head appeared around the door to give him a friendly, sleepy smile.

"No thanks, I got it." She told him, her voice full of soft, cheerful assurance.

Martin felt suddenly awkward and helpless for no particular reason, just being in the house of his boss/crush's friend with clear idea of how he was meant to be acting.

Jon distracted him sneezing again, two, three, four times. 

Georgie blessed him from the kitchen.

"There are tissues in the bathroom, under the sink." She called.

"I''ll get them." Martin told Jon, glad to have something to do.

Jon was still sneezing by the time he returned with the box.

"I hope you aren't planning on coming in to work today." Martin asked him, handing the box over.

Jon took it gratefully and instantly ripped up and handful.

"Oh I bet you are." Georgie told Jon scornfully, entering the room with an armful of teacups.

Jon scowled at them both between sneezes.

"It's just a cold." He grumbled, accepting a cup of tea from Georgie and instantly cradling it to his chest.

"I've been away so long already." He muttered, looking guilty.

"Jon no one would be angry with you for taking more time off." Martin told him.

Jon gave him a dry look.

Martin blustered. "OK maybe they will but...well...they'll get over it. Everyone is just angry and scared right now, they're not acting like themselves." 

Jon just looked more guilty. Martin decided to change tactics. 

"Besides, you don't have any shoes remember, what are you going to do? Go to work barefoot?"

Jon scowled. He had already been borrowing Georgie's clothes, they had completely different proportions so he looked ridiculous but he hadn't cared about his appearance for months now. Shoes were a problem though, it isn't really possible to wear the wrong sized shoes. 

"Your things are all in storage." Martin told him. "You had been missing for weeks and I didn't know what to tell your landlord so..."

Martin broke off noticing Jon's relieved expression. He wondered what Jon had thought had happened to his possessions and felt bad he hadn't mentioned it sooner to put Jon's mind at ease.

"I can bring you some changes of clothes, and some shoes after work this afternoon, please take the day off, at least just today." Martin pressed. 

Jon sighed.

"It's just..."

"What are you talking about? You are not going anywhere Sims, you owe me some answers." Georgie interrupted.

Jon sighed again, sounding disgruntled.

"What happened to your hand?" Georgie asked. "What is going on at your work?"

"Please Georgie, I don’t want to talk about it."

"Tough." Georgie told him, glaring, determined

Jon shuffled awkwardly in his seat.

"Look, I’m moving out anyway, so just… just forget it. I’m out of your life. Alright? It's better if you don't get involved..."

"No."

"No?… No, what?"

He blinked at her in surprise and confusion. 

Martin grinned to himself, people didn't usually take this stance with Jon, it was quite refreshing.

"I mean no, I'm not accepting that, I want to know what is happening." Georgie told him defiantly.

Jon looked distraught.

Eventually he relented with an tired sigh.

"Alright. It started a couple of years ago, the Head of the Archives, Gertrude Robinson disappeared, and Elias, my boss, chose me as her replacement...."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finally tells Georgie everything, MArtin worries a lot. That is basically it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week has been amazing with so many great fics being posted! I am in awe of all the talented writer on this site!

Martin was late for work because he had hung around at Georgie's wanting to hear Jon's explanation of what had happened to his hand. It was the first thing Georgie had wanted an explanation of after she changed the dressing on the burn that morning. The wound looked less raw and inflamed. It made it easier to see how eerily hand shaped the burn was. And Jon confirmed this was indeed the case, that he had shaken hands with an "avatar"as Georgie had dubbed them, of the lightless flame. A terrifying sounding person Martin remembered for several unsettling statements, who Jon had gone to meet with willingly! Both Martin and Georgie had scolded him about that.

"What were you thinking?" Georgie had hissed at him. "Going to meet such a dangerous person alone without even telling anyone about it?"

"I had to get information somehow." Jon had argued irritably. 

"At least you were in public." Martin sighed. "It could have been worse if you were alone with her."

Jon looked sheepish.

"Well..." 

Martin narrowed his eyes.

"Well what?"

Jon coughed and fidgeted under Martin and Georgie's expectant silence.

"Jude Perry told me where another avatar lived, Mike Crew,...so...I went to his house to talk to him......alone"

"Are you _trying_ to get killed?" Martin had asked him aghast.

"What the fuck Jon?" Georgie asked at the same time.

Jon had curled into himself and the the blankets he was wrapped in, like he was trying to be less visible.

"It's not fair having you both gang up on me." He grumbled. 

Neither of them looked remorseful.

"How did that work out?" Martin asked him, somewhat nervously.

"It was fine." Jon said unconvincingly.

They both glared at him.

Jon sighed.

"OK it was horrible, he made me feel like I was falling so quickly and from such a great height I couldn't breath for about 25 minutes while he told me his life story." Jon conceded. 

Georgie put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Martin ached to do the same but still felt too shy. Instead he said.

"Please Jon, promise you won't try and meet up with anymore monsters. I mean, _preferably_ not at all, but at _least_ not alone."

Jon flinched a little at the word monster. Earlier he had explained to Georgie that he was worried he was becoming an avatar of the beholding. Frankly this seemed likely, especially since he was able to demonstrate that he could compel people to say things they didn't want to. 

"You're not a monster Jon." Martin told him firmly.

"Detective Tonner thinks I am." Jon sighed. He explained that Daisy had followed him to Mike Crew's house and abducted the two of them to take them out to the forest and put them down.

"I don't think you should go back to the institute, either of you, it isn't safe." Georgie told them, she looked shocked and horrified. 

"We have to." Martin reminded her tiredly. 

"But you said they are working there now, these two murderous cops!" 

"Barsira isn't murderous." Jon argued. "And usually the people Daisy kills have killed a lot of other people, I see her point really."

Martin and Georgie stared incredulously at him until he scowled and tried to curl into his blankets again.

Martin had to leave after that, he was already running a bit late and didn't want to be late enough to draw Elias's attention. It was almost disappointing though that no one said anything about his tardiness, no one seemed to care.

Basira was reading and looking more calm than was really appropriate for her situation, Daisy was nowhere to be seen. Melanie looked hungover and irritable. Tim was furiously reading through statements and barely glanced up at Martin as he came in. It pained Martin to remember how friendly Tim had been before all this. A year ago Martin coming into work late would have resulted in Tim teasing him all day and half jokingly trying to guess what he had been up to the night before to be coming in late. Now he seemed to have no curiosity about anyone, he was like a shadow of his former self. 

"Jon won't be in today." Martin told him, hoping to spark some of the former Tim spirit.

"Is he ever?" Melanie snarked.

Tim grunted in amused agreement.

Basira didn't even look up from what she was reading which particularly annoyed Martin since she at least knew how close Jon had been to being murdered the previous night.

"You all could be a _little_ sympathetic." Martin scolded them.

"He was attacked by two separate monsters and then your murder cop friend almost shot him in the woods like some kind of supernatural gangster." Martin directed the last part at Basira who did look up from her book at last.

"She thought he was a monster." Basira defended.

"Well he isn't." Martin snapped.

"That's why I stopped her." Basira shrugged, going back to her book.

Martin thought angrily about how Jon had defended Basira, how he seemed to consider her a friend. 

Martin fumed silently for the rest of the day. When it was time to leave he gathered up an assortment of clothes from the sadly small pile of Jon's personal effects that were being stored in a backroom of the archives, making sure he included a few changes of clothes and a pair of shoes.

Martin hesitantly knocked on Georgie's door, feeling oddly shy despite how warm and welcoming she had been of him. Georgie ushered him in as if he was expected.

"Martin..." She said, steering him over to her single unoccupied couch, Jon was curled up asleep on the only other.

"Have a seat I'll put on some tea..."

Martin stammered out his excuse for being there, but Georgie didn't seem to be listening and Martin was distracted by how heartrendingly adorable Jon looked snuggled up into a tiny lump on Georgie's couch, the Admiral curled up against him. 

"He's been like that all day." Georgie told him amused, thrusting a cup of tea into his hands and gesturing for him to take a seat while she perched on the armrest of the couch Jon slept on.

For a moment they all just stayed there in quiet comfort with each other. Jon sleeping, obvious with the cat snuggled up into him, Georgie and Martin quiet and content.

Then Georgie broke the comfortable silence.

"I think I should tell you what happened to me, it's only fair..."

Then she explained her experience with the end. It made sense, why she had believed Martin about the flesh hive, why she believed Jon about all the other weird shit he had been through. It also made sense that she was so open and willing to help them, she didn't, couldn't feel fear. 

"I'm so sorry you went through that." Martin told her when she was done. "That must have been horrible."

Georgie shrugged.

"Kind of seems like I got away lightly after hearing some of the other options." Georgie said, and it was clear from her tone she was trying to make light of her experience, almost making fun of it, trying to cope.

"Oh yeah, that's what I tell myself everyday." Martin agreed, mimicking her tone and manor for solidarity. "Could be worse, I could be a pile of talking maggots....or obsessed with stapling meat to the walls..."

Georgie raised her eyebrows.

"yep." Martin assured her this was a real thing that had happened.

"In this economy?" She asked, cracking a smile. "Not like steak is exactly cheap."

"I know right!!!" Martin grinned. "Some fear entities are so privileged."

Jon murmured and shuffled in his sleep.

Martin frowned at him. Despite having apparently slept all day he still looked exhausted, his complexion was washed out and dark bruise like bags pooled under his eyes. 

"How is he?" He asked Georgie.

She sighed and shrugged.

"Every time he wakes up he _insists_ he's feeling better but he _seems_ worse." She told him.

"I'm worried it's the institute." Georgie admitted. "You know how you said you get sick if you stay away from work too long?"

Martin nodded worried, it made sense, Jon hadn't been back at the institute for any length of time for weeks. He hung around as long as he could, hoping Jon would wake up so he could talk to him but he didn't and Martin needed to leave, he had an appointment with his mother he couldn't be late for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think I accidently posted this trying to edit it while drunk... anyway it's about Jon going back to work when he is still a bit sick and Tim begrudgingly caring about him.

When Tim came into work, late, as usual, he was suprised to see Jon was actual in his office. The door was shut but the light was on, and Tim could hear him recording a statement. He couldn't make out the words, but he could hear the ominous tone and faint prickle of static that came with statements. 

"Oh he's actually here today." Tim remarked as he sat down at his desk.

"Yeah but he probably shouldn't be." Basira muttered from where she was seated at a nearby desk.

As Basira mentioned it Jon interrupted his own monologue with a brief fit of muffed sneezes.

"He's been doing that all morning." Basira commented.

"What did he come in for then." Tim asked, irritated, now that he was aware of it Tim could hear the muted consonants and rasp in the archivist's voice even through the closed door. 

"He'd just going to make himself worse and get us all sick as well." 

"He feels guilty." Martin told him, appearing from the break room with a cup of tea he had no doubt made for the man in question.

"He feels like he can't take more time off since he's already been gone so long."

Martin's tone held a reproach that Tim didn't think was very fair. He had every right to be angry with Jon.

But throughout the morning Tim did find his anger softening despite himself. Not just because Jon sounded pitiful, constantly interrupting his recording to cough or sneeze or clear his throat, or make some kind of wretched, snotty sound, but because of how familiar all this was.

This wasn't weird, paranoid Jon behavior. This wasn't spooky, becoming some kind of fear monster behavior. Coming into work while obviously sick was actually just typical, classic old Jonathan Sims. Listening to him soldier on through statements, probably bemoaning the fact he was doing a terrible job but stubbornly doing it anyway, pulled at Tim's sense of nostalgia. 

Tim had always loved to mess with Jon, and poking fun at Jon when he was sick had been one of Tim's absolute favorite hobbies. It was just so easy. Jon tried very hard to cultivate an air of competence and order, he tried so hard in fact he tended to overcompensate and come across as arrogant. But once you knew what a complete human disaster he really was underneath his stuffy, uptight act it was actually pretty funny.

Being sick obviously made the act harder for Jon to maintain. It is hard to appear competent when your body keeps doing inconvenient things like leaking and suddenly expelling air. It was always fun to push Jon's buttons and watch him fume like some tiny, furious, half feral creature. But when he was ill it sometimes had the amazing effect of pushing him so far he went completely in the opposite direction and became a useless, soppy, pile of mush with no dignity that just wanted to be fussed over and cared for. Either way it was usually hilarious. 

With this in mind Tim followed Martin into Jon's office the next time he saw the man bringing him yet another cup of tea. When they entered the room Jon quickly sat up straighter and but some futile effort into looking more together than he was. In some ways he actually didn't look as bad as the last time Tim had seen him. He was wearing clean clothes that actually fit him and didn't look like he might shatter into a million pieces at any moment, also he didn't have any blood on him so that was an improvement... Other than that he looked pretty terrible, red nosed and bleary eyed with his hair all sticking up at the back like he hadn't remembered to comb it that morning. He hadn't shaved, or ironed his clothes, but he looked more like his old self than he had in a long time.

Jon began to ask them something but his voice caught and he had to cough briefly into his fist.

"Go home." Tim told him bluntly with no preamble. "You're sick."

Jon predictably bristled at this.

"I'm fine, it's just a cold." He argued.

"You sound ridiculous." Tim told him. "Do you think anyone is even going to understand the statements you are recording right now?"

"I'm sure they won't have problem." Jon snapped at him.

Wordlessly Tim snatched up the tape recorder on Jon's desk and rewound it a little then hit play. The voice that came from the tape was almost comically stuffy and the tinny quality of the tape and fuzz of static made the speech quite difficult to understand.

  
"Statement about?" Tim asked, cupping a hand to his ear and aiming it at the tape player.

"About a person called...what is it Baxwell Rayder? Sounds vaguely familiar....hmmm, a bit like that Maxwell Rayner character?"

"It's fide." Jon growled.

"It's what?" Tim smirked.

"Timb..." 

Tim didn't even need to say anything, the mocking look in his eyes made Jon visibly fume.

"What Tim is trying to say...." Martin broke in. "Is that you don't sound well and should go home and rest."

Jon deflated at this.

"I just... I've already..."

"Martin is right." Tim interrupted him.

"No one wants you here germing up the place when you are all gross and contagious." He decided he couldn't be too nice to Jon with his phrasing, didn't want to give the guy ideas he was off the hook for what a paranoid arse he's been or anything. 

Jon sighed. He seemed a bit relieved despite how pissy he looked.

Martin looked delighted.

Later that afternoon though, long after Jon had gathered up his things and awkwardly shuffled out of the office Martin came running over to Tim, clutching his phone and looking distressed.

"Jon didn't go home." He told Tim.

Tim frowned a bit at this information. He wasn't sure yet what Martin meant, maybe he had happened upon Jon hidden somewhere in the institute where he could work without anyone bothering him, maybe he had been out doing some kind of spooking information gathering, either way it wasn't great.

"Georgie just messaged me, telling me I should make sure Jon leaves work at a reasonable time since he's ill." Martin told him, giving him a pointed, panicky look.

"Georgie...?" Tim asked raising an eyebrow.

"Oh right... she's an old friend of Jon's, he's staying with her since he's kind of, ya know, homeless because of all this...". Martin explain.

Tim felt a faint spike of guilt, he hadn't thought about it but it made sense.

"He left hours ago." Martin fretted. "And he isn't answering his phone. Something... something terrible might have happened to him..."

Martin was tearing up a little.

"Hey woah." Tim cut off Martin's panic with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We don't need to panic yet. Maybe he just... fell asleep on the tube or something like that." 

Martin didn't look very convinced.

"Let's clue in the others, come up with a game plan." Tim told him ushering Martin over to their coworkers.

No one else seemed all that concerned. 

"He's only been missing a few hours and like Tim says, there's plenty of reason's that might be, just chill, I'm sure he'll turn up." Basira shrugged. "

"Maybe he just decided to catch up with another monster for tea?" Daisy sneered.

Martin glared at her furiously.

"Going off somewhere else without saying anything would be pretty on brand for him right?" Melanie asked. 

"I should have known none of you would be any help!" Martin fumed and stormed out of the archives.

Tim felt bad for Martin but couldn't help but agree with the others. Jon was probably just off doing something mysterious he hadn't bothered telling anyone about. 

The following day though they all found it much harder to explain Jon's absence away to an increasingly irate Martin and the woman he entered the archives with.

Georgie, as she introduced herself had been all but physically carrying a pale and red eyed Martin as they burst into the room. She was fierce and determined in a calm and level headed way that was hard to argue with. It was much more difficult to placate Martin after a night of no contact from Jon. Martin straight up and refused to consider that Jon would just vanish on his own volition in this particular instance. 

"He's sick. He's sick and homeless, where else would he even go?" Martin argued. 

"Last time I thought he was just off somewhere being an inconsiderate jerk it turned out he had been abducted and nearly murdered by a series of monsters and some psychotic police woman." Georgie pointed out when they all tried to insist he was probably just off doing research or some such thing.

Daisy bristled.

"I had good reasons." She muttered. 

"My point is we need to consider that he may have been abducted again." Georgie hissed, glowering at the ex-cop with a look that could curdle milk.

Basira suggested they check the CCTV footage around the institute, to see if they could get an idea of where Jon went when he left the institute. Getting the footage from the institute was simple enough but only showed that Jon left when he said he was going too. After this Daisy and Basira called in favors and got footage from several cameras along the route to the nearest tube station.

This quickly confirmed their suspicions. The footage was grainy and black and white but clearly showed Jon, hurrying along the street with his head down and huddled into his coat, not paying that much attention to his surroundings. Suddenly he was intercepted by two enormous men, who seemed to be carrying a large wooden box between them. The footage showed Jon look up at them and jump in surprise, he barely had a chance to try and run before one of the men swung a punch at him and he dropped to the wet pavement like a stone.

After that he was unceremoniously slung over one of the men's shoulder and carted over to a white van waiting nearby. 


	6. Chapter 6

Jon only woke up because he couldn't get enough air. He would have _preferred_ to stay unconscious. Certainly the fuzzy, red, pounding oblivion of his head injury was trying to pull him back under. It would be much easier to just stay passed out, but not being able to breath properly was a real problem and his body was stubbornly insisting he deal with it. 

He forced open his eyes with some difficulty, the left eye felt heavy are swollen and only opened half way. 

He cried out in pain, or rather tried to, but found he was unable. He was gagged with cloth stuffed into and bound around his mouth. He tried reaching up to pull the cloth away but found his hands were also bound. Looking down at himself Jon realised he was tied to a chair. He tugged at his bonds feebly. Looking around in panic he noticed he was in a large room, maybe a storeroom, As his eyes adjusted he could make out the frozen limbs of manikins and creepy faces of poorly constructed wax work figures that surrounded him.

He began to struggle in earnest but he felt dizzy and weak. He could barely get any air through the gag and his nose was completely blocked. At least none of the figures appeared to be moving. The room was still and quiet, Jon could hear rain pounding down outside, heavy but far away. 

Then, as if things couldn't get any worse Jon heard the sounds of approaching footsteps and voices. The door swung open and in came Nikola Orsinov, beaming at Jon with a disturbingly wide, plastic smile. 

"Archivist!" She greeted him happily.

Breekon and Hope followed her in, carrying the coffin between them. A low hum sounded from the coffin, Nikola looked away from smiling psychotically at Jon to give the coffin a glare of irritation but was distracted by the sudden click of a tape recorder turning on. 

"Oh it does work!" Nikola cried, delighted.

"What have you been recording? Something spooky?"

Jon tried desperately to say something. To beg her to take off his gag. He felt like he was being slowly smothered and was sure he would die if he didn't get to take a proper breath soon. All he could manage though was a panicky wheezing sound that he hoped would get the message across.

No such luck Nikola continued to prattle on in her odd, singsong voice to Elias, outlining the horrible things she planned to do to the archivist with delight. 

Mid monologue she seemed to notice he wasn't responding as dramatically as she had hoped. She paused and frowned at him critically.

"I must say... I expected you to have a bit more...I don't know...spark." She shook him a little.

Jon's head lolled helplessly, he wheezed weakly at her, but he had no energy to fight. 

"And you've turned such an odd colour..." She mused.

"Don't think he can breath proply." Breekon supplied helpfully.

"Tha's the colour people turn when they can't breath." Hope agreed.

"Might want to take the gag off if you want 'im to live."

"Nonsense." Nikola snapped. "Humans can breath through their nose, they don't need their mouth for that." 

She looked doubtful suddenly.

"Otherwise what is the point of noses." She frowned at Jon critically. 

"Sometimes noses don't work though." Breekon explained.

"If they are broken or sick or been crying." Hope added.

Nikola sighed, looking put upon.

"Well I suppose we will have to take the gag off then." She decided.

"But if you try and compel anyone...well, we will just have to cut your tongue out won't we!" She grinned at him.

"You won't need your tongue to breath now will you?" She shot Breekon and Hope a quick glance at this, as if to double check.

"Don't think so." Breekon shrugged.

Hope grinned and shook his head. 

Jon gave her a pleading look.

"Alright then, we don't want you to stop breathing just yet, we need to get your skin in much better condition first." Nikola said sweetly, sing song. She cut the gag from his face with her sharp plastic fingers. 

Jon gasped and sucked in frantic breathes of air until he coughed and choked and sobbed.

Out of the corner of his eye Jon noticed Breekon and Hope exchange a knowing smile, as if pleased to get conformation they had been correct.

"Speaking of which..." Nikola continues running a finger down Jon's face, grinning as he flinched away from her as far as his bonds would allow.

"...do you have a preferred brand of lotion? You have not been taking care of your skin and we need it in much better condition before we peel you."

Jon just gave her a look of frozen horror.

"I'll just have them pick you up a selection." She told him cheerfully.

After this Jon was left alone. Without the gag he could breath but he still felt miserable. His whole body ached and there was nothing he could do but shift restlessly in the chair, trying to take the weight of one cramped and painful muscle for a moment, then switching to another position as this inevitable caused a different part of him to hurt. 

His head pounded fiercely. His throat stung and he was desperately thirsty. His eyes felt hot and dry. His nose was running but there was nothing he could do about it. He felt so utterly wretched.

He must have somehow fallen asleep because he was startled awake by a group of living manikins undoing his bonds.

Terrified he fought against them as hard as he could. But they were impassive to his struggles, and just quietly and meticulously went on with their business.

"Get away from me." He croaked. They pulled him out of the chair and he would have fallen if they hadn't held him. Their touch felt so strange and unnatural he tried to pull away even though he would have fallen without their support.

"What are you doing?" He asked them, panicking.

They were pulling his clothing off with firm, practiced moves, they gave no indication of having heard him. The ones that had faces were just painted on, the rest were just featureless plastic. 

Jon struggled weakly. Coughing and begging them to leave him alone.

Once they had stripped him they began rubbing moisturizer into his skin with their cold plastic hands. 

Jon cried and cursed and fought as hard as he could but they seemed unaffected by any blows or struggles or insults, they just held him firmly and waited for him to exhaust himself. Eventually he gave up and just sobbed quietly under their ministrations. 

After he was well lathered in greasy, floral smelling cream they seemed satisfied and began redressing Jon. Once he realized what they were doing he cooperated and as soon as he was dressed they gave him some water to drink. He gulped in down in big greedy swallows until he was nearly sick and they took the bottle away from him. 

When they began binding him again Jon broke down and fought them wildly. Sobbing again and struggling pointlessly against their firm, artificial grip, pleading that the bonds weren't necessary. But they were impassive, it was very possible they couldn't actually hear, some of them didn't even appear to have ears.

In the end they had him for five days. 

The rest of the archive team where looking for Jon. 

Elias was no help, he had the air of a person who could help if they chose too, but did not choose to. 

Georgie and Martin were a relentless motivating force for everyone else. Though they personally had no idea how to find Jon they refused to let anyone else slip into apathy. 

Melanie didn't particularly like Jon but she did not like the idea of anyone being in his situation. Taken against his will while he was already unwell and vulnerable. And she wanted to please Georgie, and hated how upset Martin was about his absence. Melanie was good at investigating, it had been part of her job previously. Teamed up with Basira and Daisy who had police contacts, they chased any leads they could find on the two distinctively large cockneys in the white, Breekon and Hope van. 

They narrowed down an area that seemed likely and began intensifying their search where then van had been most often sighted. Tim was surprisingly motivated for stakeouts. The moment he had found out about the circus's involvement he had been 100% onboard. 

Eventually they had narrowed down their search to an old waxworks and begun planning an attack.

"Ok so here is the plan." Basira explained to the others, a map and many notes spread out before her with Tim, Martin, Melanie and Georgie stood around her in a semi circle. Daisy already knew her role well and stood back, watching the others critically.

"Daisy and I have got a few other sectioned officers on board to help, no questions asked, we will go in, full riot gear, and kill anything that isn't obviously human on sight."

Martin squeaked at this in obvious panic.

"But what if..."

"We won't shoot Jon." Basira assured him. "We will only be attacking things that are coming at us, and frankly, he probably won't be in any state to look like a threat."

Martin just looked more stressed than ever.

"Tim..." Basira continued. "Since you are determined you are coming in with us.."

"I am." Tim interrupted.

"Fine," Basira rolled her eyes. "But we are not giving you a gun."

"No problem I have an axe." Tim replied.

"But you are staying behind us." Basira reminded him firmly. "Your job is to locate Jon and get him out of there when you do."

Tim nodded.

"Fine." He agreed.

"Are you sure?" Barisa grilled him. "Because if you get distracted and just keep hacking up manikins..."

"I got it." Tim snapped.

"Good." Basira glared at him. Tim was a rouge element and she wanted to be sure he understood his role and would stick to it. "Jon will probably be in rough shape so you need to stay on task and get him out of there ASAP."

Martin whimpered at the words "In rough shape."

"Martin and Georgie will stay outside in the car waiting for you to bring him out," Basira continued. Martin and Georgie nodded, they had no other useful skills to offer in a raid but insisted on being present, Basira had eventually relented. 

"You can do first aid until we can get him to the hospital. Melanie will be driving. And while you are waiting you can be on the look out for any other crazy shit coming our way." Basira finished.

"Everyone clear?" Daisy asked. 

They all nodded mutely.

The raid went about as well as could be hoped. There was a lot of animated waxworks and dummies that attacked them but other than Nikola Orsinov and Sarah Baldwin they were clumsy and lacked sophistication. Basira and the other sectioned officers mowed down many of the animated dummies with their guns and batons. But Tim went straight for Orsinov. Hacking at her with his axe like a man possessed, chopping limbs and big, awful rents into her plastic body. 

Nikola just cackled at Tim and taunted him about his brother under the hail of axe blows. But she was cornered by several officers and was eventually overwhelmed. Tim hacked off her plastic head.

"You got her Tim." Basira told him firmly, trying to snap him out of the feral, manic energy he had been riding on.

"Now chill, we got to find Jon remember?"

Tim nodded dumbly, throwing one final axe blow to Nicola's still cackling severed head.

The rest of the dummies and waxworks scattered or were easily overcome once Nikola went down.

Sarah Baldwin went up in flames when a sectioned officer turned a blowtorch on her. 

Searching the wax works they found Jon tied up in a store room of sorts. He was unconscious, tragically thin and wasted with a vibrant black eye and bound to a chair like he could have had any possibility of escaping on his own.

"Take him and get out of here." Basira ordered Tim. "We'll clear out the rest of these things."

Tim stared at Jon, his eyes had been bright with adrenalin but his face fell as he saw his colleges pitiful form. He knelt by t he archivist and shook him gently. 

"Jon?" He asked him softly. "Can you hear me?"

Jon's eyelashes fluttered but he didn't wake.

Tim quickly cut Jon free of his binds and lifted him from the chair. He felt so light and limp. More like a pile of rags than a person.

Jon murmured and began to struggle as Tim lifted him.

"It's alright. It's me." Tim told him.

Jon's eyes flickered open. His weak struggling stilled.

"Tim?" He asked. His voice was a croaky whisper.

"Yeah, I got you boss, you're safe now." Tim told him. 

He carried Jon quickly through the building. The sounds of gunshots rang out elsewhere in the building. Tim ignored it and ran out to where Melanie, Georgie and Martin waited in Daisy's car in an alley near the waxworks. 

Martin flung open the door as he saw Tim approaching and Tim bundled Jon into his waiting arms.  
Then Tim got into the front with Melanie.

"Drive." He told her.

"The others? Basira?" Melanie questioned.

"They're fine." Tim told her. 

"Jon needs the hospital, so drive." 

"I'm OK." Incredibly, Jon's wreaked and nasal voice tried to assure them.

Georgie scoffed.

"I'm not injured..." Jon amended.

"You're burning up." Martin told him, a gentle hand on his forehead. 

To Martin's surprise Jon leaned into his touch, shivering. 

Martin pulled him in closer for a hug, no other thought but to warm and comfort him. Georgie also moved closer, rubbing Jon's back and making a soothing, comforting nose.

Jon started to cry and laugh at the same time, a horrible, hysterical sound.

"They were going to skin me alive." He sobbed.

"I didn't think there was any hope." He burrowed into Georgie and Martin. In the front of the car Tim and Melanie exchanged glances, they may have their differences with Jon, but right now they just wanted to rip apart all the people who were responsible for reducing him to this. 

"I didn't think anyone would come for me." Jon told them brokenly.

Georgie shushed him, and Martin murmured soothing nonsense. They managed to lull him into a deep if not peaceful sleep for the rest of the drive to the hospital.


	7. Chapter 7

Jon had been a complete mess. He was clearly traumatised and exhausted by his experience and was barely awake when they bought him into the hospital. 

But he managed to retain some of that prickly, stubborn old Jonathan Sims spark which he demonstrated by being as difficult as possible for all the medical personal dealing with him in A & E.

He was uncooperative and argumentative, he tried to talk them out of most of the tests they wanted to do. He scathignly refused a psyche consult.

He was snappy and dismissive with the doctor tending to his burn when they tried to discuss future cosmetic treatment. He told the neurologist he didn't think there was any point in an MRI despite clearly having suffered a head injury that he admitted had left him unconscious for a period of time.

When the test results were strangely corrupted by an unknown software glitch he was absurdly smug, which just confused everyone. And when the nurse explained they would have to be rerun the test he was irrationally furious they didn't instantly believe him that the same thing would just happen again.

The staff had to keep reminded themselves he was feverish and ill and not to be blamed for his pissy attitude. 

Jon was also too feverish and out of it to hide how weird and possibly supernatural he now was, he asked a doctor curtly if they thought he was an idiot and to the doctor's acute embarrassment she gave him a very candid assessment of his mental faculties and what a jerk she thought he was being before apologizing and making a quick exit.

He also accidently compelled a nurse to tell him about a clearly flesh touched patient she treated in the early 90s who they'd had to keep removing gallbladder after gallbladder from in a hellish 72 hour surgery. 

Both the nurse and Jon had ended the interaction looking a little shocked and ill.

Despite the doctor insisting Jon should be admitted at least overnight, at least until his temperature was under control Jon obstinately refusing to consider staying in the hospital. 

"Jon you should listen to the doctor." Martin tried to reason with him.

"No Martin." Jon snapped at him. scowling and trying to look authoritative despite wearing a hospital gown and shaking like a leaf.

"You know it isn't safe here." Jon glared around the hospital room suspiciously.

"We'll stay here are keep an eye out." Melanie told him, straining to keep patient with him, it had been a long day for all of them.

"Oh? And what will you do if a monster shows up? Be really angry with it?" Jon asked her testitly.

"Jon." Georgie gave him warning look as Melanie fumed.

"I really think it would be a good idea to get a psych evaluation." Another nurse that were still fussing over Jon pressed.

"You have no idea." Tim agreed rolling his eyes. 

Jon scowled at him, but it made him start coughing. He had a horrible cough, the kind that made people cringe reflexively when they heard it. 

"Just over night." Martin pleaded.

"I won't put the hospital staff in danger." Jon insisted. 

He also refused to go back to Georgie's house. 

"It was selfish of me in the first place," he told her firmly when she argued.

"If anything happened to you, or god forbid the Admiral, I'd never forgive myself."

"Well, you can come and stay with..." Martin began but Jon cut him off.

"That would just put you in danger instead." Jon snapped, but he softened his tone at Martin's sad, worried, expression.

"I'm going to stay in the archives." He told them calmly taking a deep if congested breath to steady himself. "It's the safest option."

"Jon the archives are hardly safe." Georgie scoffed. 

"You've been attacked there several times." She pointed out.

"It's safer for other people though." Jon told her. "Seems like monsters are going to attack me wherever I go so I may as well be somewhere no one else can get dragged into this mess."

"Wish you'd had this martyr complex before you dragged me and Sasha into the archives." Tim muttered bitterly, then regretted it when Jon just looked morose and agreed.

Maybe they would have argued with him more if they actually had any better ideas, or if Jon hadn't been so sad and frail and trembling with fatigue. But as it was they just wanted him to be somewhere he could relax and rest. If he insisted that was the archives they could deal with that for the time being.

So they filled his prescriptions, helped him discharge himself against medical advice and bought him back to the archives.

Tim went home, he was beginning to feel the adrenalin crash and was struggling to process everything that had happened. The elation that he had finally got some kind of revenge on the creatures that had taken his little brother was disorienting and a bit tainted by the harsh reality that it didn't actually change his situation, he was still trapped, but now he had no motivating goal.

Melanie drove Georgie, Martin and Jon to the archives. Jon had been very unsteady on his feet as they walked through the building, swaying and out of breath, but he refused the indignity of being carried. Though he did let Georgie and Martin take an arm each.

"This is where you're going to be staying?" Georgie asked as she look in the sad little cot in document storage.

"It's fine." Jon told her, flopping down on the bed with a sigh of obvious relief. The walk from the car to the archives had taken all his remaining strength.

"It doesn't look very comfortable." Georgie criticized. "And it's so dry and dusty in here. It's not going to help your cough, or your sinus infection." 

Jon grumbled unintelligibly into the blankets.

"We could get a humidifier." Martin suggested. 

Jon grumbled again.

"Yes a humidifier is an excellent idea." Georgie agreed cheerfully.

Jon grumbled sounding more annoyed.

"We can't actually understand you." Meanie told him.

He wearily rolled over so that his face wasn't pressed into the pillow. The change in angle made him have to sniffle and cough his horrible cough. 

"It won't be good for the documents." Jon wheezed in protest when he was able to stop coughing.

"For Christ's sake Jonathan, no one cares about the documents!" Georgie scolded him.

"Well...I do a bit..." Jon told her petulantly. 

Georgie gave him an exasperated look.

"They might have important information." He mumbled sulkily. 

Jon was struggling to keep his eyes open so Georgie decided to stop trying to talk sense into him and to let him sleep. 

Georgie left but promised she would be back the next day with things to make Jon more comfortable. Melanie left too but Martin predictably decided to stay. 

He let Jon sleep for a few hours but felt that he had to wake him and try and convince him to eat something. It was pretty late in the evening and Jon was clearly exhausted but he was so thin it hurt Martin to look at him. 

"Jon?" Martin rubbed his shoulder very gently to wake him.

Jon just whined and burrowed more into his blankets. 

Martin smiled, he had been worried Jon would wake up terrified and it would break his heart. 

"Do you think you can sit up for a minute and eat some soup?" He coaxed.

Jon opened his eyes blearily at this and blinked at Martin for a moment not quite processing anything.

"Just for a minute." Martin encouraged, helping Jon into a more upright position. "Then you can go back to sleep."

Jon nodded drowsily and let Martin help him sit up.

"I'm sorry it's just canned soup." Martin told him. "It probably isn't very tasty but it's warm at least."

"S'ok." Jon told him. "I can't really taste anything anyway."

"No, I'm not surprised, you sound so stuffy." Martin told him sympathetically. "Did they doctors give you anything for that?"

Jon paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes not focused, like he was trying to remember, but the hospital was a bit of a blur to him. He shrugged.

Martin hadn't even waited for him to answer and was looking through the various boxes of pills on the bedside.

"Ah, here, decongestants." He popped two pills from the blister pack. "You should take some, you will sleep better if you can breathe more easily."

When Jon finished his soup Martin handed him the pills and a glass of water.

"You might need more paracetamol too..." Martin reached a hand towards him hesitantly and when Jon didn't flinch laid his palm gently across Jon's forehead. 

Jon closed his eyes with a soft sigh and leaned into the touch.

Martin would have been more thrilled by this gesture if he wasn't so worried.

"You're still really warm." He said getting Jon two more pills. "If you're no better tomorrow you might need to go back to the hospital." Martin fretted.

Jon took the pills and swallowed them with the rest of the water without comment or complaint. His eyelids felt heavy, each blink felt like pushing a weight.

"S'fine, m'fine." He told Martin, his speech slurring with fatigue.

Martin shook his head sadly but didn't argue.

He helped Jo lie back down, keeping him propped up a little with pillows so he could breath more easily. As he ease Jon down he could feel him shivering a little.

"Are you feeling cold?" He asked Jon. "It does get a bit chilly in here at night."

Jon nodded. 

"I'll get you another blanket." Martin told him, but when he went to get up a hot, shaky hand grabbed his wrist.

"Were you cold?" Jon asked him giving him sad puppy eyes for some reason.

Martin looked puzzled.

"Oh I'm alright." He told Jon, feeling a little confused.

"No...I mean... when you were sleeping here." Jon asked anxiously.

Marin smiled reassuringly, touched that Jon was belatedly worrying about something so trivial at a time like this.

"No, I have a built in blanket so to speak." He told Jon, laughing a little nervously. 

Jon gave him a tiny, fragile smile.

"That sounds nice." He told Martin.

Martin blushed and and left quickly to get the blanket, he doubted Jon would remember this conversation later. He was so out of it.

He expected Jon to have fallen asleep when he returned but Jon seemed if anything more awake and looked worried and stressed.

"It's alright." Martin told him soothingly, thinking he had probably thought he'd been left alone and was frightened.

"I wasn't far." He spread the extra blanket over Jon carefully.

"I'm not leaving you alone, not after everything you've been through."

To Martin's considerably surprise this had the opposite effect to what he was expecting and Jon started to sob brokenly.

"Hey, no, shhh, it's okay." Martin tried to sooth him, alarmed.

"I left you here alone." Jon sobbed.

"What?" Martin asked him bewildered.

"I shouldn't..." Jon broke of to cough, the crying was really not helping with that. "I shouldn't have left you here alone, after what you went through." He told Martin. 

"No Jon, that wasn't..."

"It was though." Jon interrupted him, his eyes were bright with fever.

"What you went through was awful, and you shouldn't have been alone...I shouldn't have left you alone." He was sobbing, big breathless wheezing sobs that filled Martin with sadness and concern. 

"Jon..." He wrapped Jon in an awkward hug. "it's...I wasn't really alone that much, you were here most of the time really, you stayed ridiculous hours."

"Not for you." Jon mumbled into Martin's arm.

"It didn't matter, you were still there." Martin smiled at him, reveling a bit in the intimacy.

Martin didn't understand why Jon was so upset, it was probably the fever, sure being trapped in his apartment by the flesh hive had been horrible but he hardly thought it compared to what Jon had just experienced. 

Jon didn't seem to agree.

"It wasn't ok." Jon told him, still crying fat tears.

"You weren't ok."

Martin sighed and gathered Jon up for a proper hug. For a second he went rigid and Martin worried he'd pushed too far, then Jon relaxed and snuggled into the hug, still crying a little.

"You're right." He admitted, stroking Jon's hair in a way he hopped was soothing.

"Let's make a deal, from now on neither of us will ever say we are ok or that we are fine when we are not." He told Jon softly.

Jon didn't say anything but Martin felt him nod slightly.

Eventually they both fell asleep like that, and neither of them were really ok but at least they weren't alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Martin woke up disoriented and overheated. It took his fuzzy brain a moment to put together where he was and what was happening. It was dark, he wasn't in his house, he wasn't in his bed, and he was covered in what felt like a hot, damp pile of bones and hair. 

When he tried to push the uncomfortable mass off of himself it moaned unhappily at being disturbed. Martin's recollection sharpened instantly at the sound.

Jon. 

He was in document storage with Jon. The bones and hair were Jon's, they were crammed into the narrow cot together. Jon's hair was loose and his sweat curled locks spooled everywhere like octopus tentacles, his limbs were splayed over Martin with the grace of a spider monkey. He was radiating heat like the world's least cozy furnace. 

Martin had only a few seconds to process all this before Jon was pulling away from him. Martin must have woken him and he was clearly uncomfortable and unwell. Making small pained noise and breathing in rapid, strained huffs of air.

"Hey, are you OK?" Martin fretted, flicking the small bedside light on.

Jon hissed and whined at the light.

"Sorry." Martin wanted to turn the light back off if it pained Jon but he needed to see what he was dealing with.

Jon was horribly flushed and drenched in sweat. His clothes stuck to him damply and he was pushing all the blankets away from him with weak but almost sulky movements, like the blankets had wronged him personally.

"Need help?" Martin asked him.

Jon made an unintelligible noise that sounded annoyed and whiny. Martin took this as agreement and helped pull off the blankets.

Jon was still so frighteningly hot. He coughed and panted and swallowed thickly. He pulled at the oversized hoodie he was wearing weakly.

"M'melting." He gasped.

"You're way too hot." Martin told him, worried. "Let's get some layers off you huh?" 

Martin began helping to peel off the hoodie but Jon suddenly snapped and went wild eyed with terror. Lurching away from Martin and falling onto the floor gracelessly.

"Ssss_stay away." He slurred, shaking hard. His voice was wrecked but the air filled with static and Martin moved back without actively thinking about it.

"Jon..." He began reproachfully.

"Nnnnn-no, don't touch..." Jon slurred then broke off to cough a horrible wet, hacking cough. 

"Don't touch mmmm-me." He gasped, shuffling away across the floor until he hit the wall and huddled against it, glaring at Martin with unfocussed eyes.

"Hey it's ok." Martin approached him cautiously, crouching down and speaking in a soft, soothing tone, his heart breaking.

Jon looked terrified, his eyes wild and full of fear. Martin had been dreading something like this. 

"Jon please, it's me." He begged.

Jon clearly didn't recognize Martin, or where he was. He pushed himself into the wall, desperately trying to get further away. He looked a bit like a feral, cornered animal, and just as Martin thought this, Jon's eyes glowed an eerie green, like the eyeshine of a nocturnal animal when a light hit their reflective retinas.

"What do you want from me?" Jon asked, his croaky whisper of a voice filled the air with static. 

Martin was struck with an unsettling feeling of violation as all his intentions towards Jon where pulled up from his mind and into words.

"I want you to let me help you because you're very ill and you're scaring me, I want you to let me help you take some clothes off so you can cool down because you're burning with fever and I'm worried it's going to damage your brain if we don't get it under control. I want you to drink some water and take some more medicine. I want you to stop being in danger all the time, to stop putting yourself into dangerous situations, to stop acting like your safety and wellbeing is a resource to use to get the job done."

Martin tried to fight the compulsion but the words kept pouring out of him like water from a burst pipe.

"I want you to value your life and happiness. I want you to be safe and well and content. I want to spend time with you. I want to read you poetry, I want to make you tea cuddle in bed on cold morning. I want us to watch TV with your head on my lap and want you to let me play with your hair while I listen to you complain about the plot holes and historical inaccuracies in BBC dramas. I want you to always want me around. I want you to trust me, I want you to love me." 

Jon's expression went from fearful to confused, to horrified as he realised where he was and what was happening.

Martin still felt the urge to keep going, to pour out all his deepest, inner most desires for Jon but thankfully Jon had stopped pushing for knowledge and the compulsion weakened enough that Martin could break away. He got up and ran from the room.

He didn't go far, just to the bathrooms to splash water of his face and stare wide eyed at his own reflection for a few minutes while he tried to put his mind back together.

_I want to read you poetry..._

Martin groaned and thumped his forehead into the mirror. Why was his life like this? If he didn't die from some kind of fear monster attack, he was definitely going to die of embarrassment. 

_I want you to love me..._

The worst thing was Martin couldn't really stay away and hide. Because Jon still really needed his help. Martin could hear him coughing all the way back in document storage. He was still feverish and confused and probably frightened.

So Martin had to swallow down his embarrassment, splash some more water on his face and go back to deal with the mess.

Jon was right where he'd left him. He was still in the floor, Martin couldn't see his expression though because Jon was struggling to get out of the oversized "What the ghost" hoodie Georgie had given him that was stuck around his head. Jon was flailing, uncoordinated, one arm trapped in the hood somehow, and still panting, wheezy and frantic.

Martin smiled at the sight.

"Hey, it's alright, relax." he told Jon soothingly, helping to navigate his arms out the correct holes and extract Jon from the hoodie.

'"S'so hot." Jon complained.

"Yeah you're really burning up." Martin told him sympathetically.

Jon groaned and tried to pull his shirt off as well.

"How about a nice cool shower?" Martin coaxed gently.

Jon stared at him, blinking glassily for a beat.

"That sounds amazing." He told Martin earnestly.

"Ok, great, think you can walk to the bathroom?" Martin asked gently, helping Jon to his shaky feet. Expecting to have to catch him at any moment.

"Hnnnggg." Jon explained.

"Ok." Martin agreed amicably and supported most of his weight to the bathrooms.

Martin wished they had a bathtub since Jon was so wobbly. But They were lucky really to have a shower stall at all. It was one of those, encourage people to exercise buy providing them with a way to shower after cycling or jogging to work, units that was basically a larger than average toilet cubical that also had a shower and sink. 

Martin set Jon on the toilet for a moment while he got the shower running at lukewarm. 

"Will you be ok or do you..."

Jon looked really conflicted. 

Martin guessed he didn't think he could stand for the whole shower but also didn't feel comfortable being naked around Martin just yet. 

"Hold on a sec." Martin told him and quickly ran to get a spare plastic office chair he remembered seeing in storage just down the hall.

He put the chair in the shower for Jon.

"Here you go." 

Jon looked at him baffled for a moment.

"You are so kind to me." He said softly, like he couldn't begin to understand why anyone would be. Then he went into the shower before Martin had time to process the emotions that bought up.

Martin wanted to give Jon privacy, so he stayed just outside the bathroom, but he was also a bit concerned Jon would pass out and drown, so he stayed _just_ outside the bathroom. He listened for signs he was needed, ready to burst in if he heard a thump, or sudden silence. In a way it was lucky Jon was making quite a lot of noise, it set Martin at ease. He could easily hear Jon's wheezy breaths, hacking coughs and shuddering sneezes through the door. 

He didn't sound great but at least he was clearly conscious.

After a while Jon turned the water off. After a bit longer Jon hesitantly called for Martin.

Martin peeked around the door cautiously.

Jon was dressed in the fresh clothes Martin had left him. his eyes were clearer but he was sitting on the lid of the toilet looking exhausted.

"I was wondering if you would mind..." Jon held up his injured hand.

"Of course." Martin told him.

He quickly got the first aid kit and taking Jon's hand gently smeared burn salve over the healing blisters. Then he wrapped the injury in clean bandages. 

"I'll do your neck too." Martin told him once he was done on the hand.

Jon just nodded, he was listing sideways sleepily.

When Martin lifted his chin to get a better look at the wound at his throat Jon suddenly stiffened and pushed him away.

" _Just a a second_." He said quickly, smushing his words together to get them out in time and turning away from Martin to sneeze congestedly several times.

"Blrg...Sorry." He mumbled, sniffling.

"Bless you." Martin told him, gently maneuvering the angle of Jon's face again so he could get to the cut and dabbing it with antiseptic.

He noticed Jon's grimace with pain.

"Sorry did that hurt?" He asked.

Jon made dismissive sound.

"No, not you, more the angle, and the sneezing, the pressure I think, it makes my teeth hurt."

"Your teeth?" Martin asked.

"Yes." Jon told him, his eyes glowed faintly green again, but just a low, flash barely noticeable and easily dismissed if you weren't paying attention.

"The posterior superior alveolar nerve arises from the maxillary nerve in the pterygopalatine fossa and goes anteroinferiorly, pierces the infratemporal surface of the maxilla and descends under the mucosa of the maxillary sinus. Then the nerve divides into smaller nerves, which link up and form a part of the superior alveolar plexus. The posterior superior alveolar nerve supplies sensory fibers to the molar teeth, as well as the upper gingiva and the adjoining part of the cheek. My sinus is swollen with infection, putting pressure on the maxillary nerve, hence the tooth pain..."

Jon broke off, looking dazed, then scowled in annoyance.

"Ummm" Martin began.

"Sorry." Jon told him.

"I keep getting random knowledge...just fed straight into my brain."

He looked contrite, like he had done something wrong.

"It's ok, it's useful I guess." Martin reassured him. "Like spooky web MD."

"Not really." Jon scowled. 

"I already know I have a sinus infection, I don't need to know the exact biological reason it's uncomfortable."

Martin hummed sympathetically.

"Ok you're all patched up. Let's get you back to bed, think you can walk?" He asked.

Jon nodded but was so wobbly when he stood up he had to lean on Martin for balance.

Back in document storage Martin lowered Jon into a chair at the desk.

"Just sit here a minute, I'll get you some fresh sheets." Martin told him.

The sheets on the bed were horribly damp with sweat.

"I think your fever broke." Martin told him happily. "You feel much cooler."

He stripped the sweat soaked sheets off the bed and threw them into the corner to deal with later, and spreading fresh linen over the cot.

Jon frowned at the damp sheets and began to recite, his eyes glowing faintly again.

"Sweat is released by the eccrine sweat glands, which open onto the surface of the skin and cover most of the body. It is made up of water, salt and potassium, and sits on the top of the skin so that the moisture evaporates allowing the body to cools down. Maximum sweat rates of an adult can be up to 2–4 liters per hour or 10–14 liters per day which is 10–15 grams per minute per meters square." Jon told Martin then scowled again, annoyed, when he was done.

Martin chuckled fondly.

"Ok google, back to bed now." He said helping Jon back down onto the cot and under the fresh sheets.

"Thank you Martin." Jon told him sleepily. "It's kind of you... to take care of me like this..." He smiled tiredly at Martin, his words slurring together with fatigue. 

Jon was asleep so quickly Martin didn't really have time to think about what to do once he was out. He could, Martin supposed get back into bed with Jon and go to sleep as well. But he felt shy about doing this. Jon had let him do this earlier when he was out of his mind with fever. 

But Martin felt embarrassed to do so now that Jon was feeling clearer, especially after the embarrassing things he had said when compelled.

So Martin just pulled the chair over to the cot so he could sit near Jon and keep an eye on him.


	9. Chapter 9

Martin woke up to a familiar chuckle. He opened his eyes and could blearily make out, with no glasses and fuzzy morning vision, Tim standing over him, grinning, holding his phone in a way that suggested he had just taken a photo. 

Martin glared at him sitting up he realised he had fallen asleep in the chair beside the cot and had slumped over so that his head and one arm were resting on the cot, sharing the pillow with Jon, one arm hanging over the side. Jon was still dead to the world, his mouth wide open and snoring like a warthog.

"You better delete that." Martin told Tim, hunting around for his glasses. But there was no heat behind it. Tim looked more like himself than he had in a long time and it made Martin pleased.

Tim just snickered.

"I can't actually believe I managed to fall asleep with all the noise he's making." Martin joked, smirking fondly at Jon.

"I can't believe you stayed all night." Tim told him. 

Martin frowned at the idea he should have left Jon. There was no way Jon could have coped alone, even at the hospital, without anyone who knew him he would have suffered. Martin looked into Jon's lax face, relaxed now, and peaceful in sleep but he still had dark bags of exhaustion under his eyes, and a gaunt, underfed look about him.

"I couldn't have left him." Martin told Tim. "He...he didn't have a good night." Martin struggled with how to explain it. The night already felt surreal.

Tim's expression darkened.

"Idiot, he should have stayed in hospital." 

Martin shook his head sadly, he completely understood Jon's reasoning for not wanting too, he was pretty sure Tim did too.

"He was frightened." Martin said eventually.

"Well...you obviously didn't have a good night either. You should go home, get some rest." Tim told him. "I'll look after snuffles here." 

Martin smirked a little at the nickname. But he hesitated and looked conflicted.

"Will you though?" He asked carefully.

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Go get some proper sleep, I'll keep him alive until you're back, I promise."

"Well..." Martin hedged, sleep sounded pretty good, and a shower and change of clothes would be nice. But Jon deserved better care than just being kept alive...

"Georgie will be here around 10 but if you could keep an eye on him until then." Martin conceded.

"Fine." Tim told him dryly.

"He'll probably just sleep but if he wakes up..." Martin began.

"Medicine, breakfast, tea, I'm sure I can handle it." Tim seemed mildly amused by his fussing.

"I know you can it's just..." Martin hesitated, not sure if he should say something, but worried if he didn't and Jon compelled Tim it would be worse if he wasn't warned.

"...He...um...you know how Daisy was saying he can force people to tell him things?"

Tim's face hardened.

"What did he do?" He asked, bitterness creeping back into his tone.

"It wasn't on purpose!" Martin told him quickly. "He was out of his mind with fever, but I thought I should warn you, just in case..." Martin trailed off, feeling awkward, thinking again about the things he had said the previous night. 

"Martin, what happened?" Tim asked him.

"It was no big deal really." Martin blushed, why had he bought this up?

"Then you can just tell me about it." Tim shrugged.

"He just... he asked me what I wanted from him... he didn't mean... he didn't know it was _me_ , he thought he was... he thought the circus still had him." Martin stammered out, embarrassment heating his cheeks and making him stumble over words.

Tim nodded, looking thoughtful.

"He made you tell him what you wanted from him?" Tim asked, clarifying.

Martin nodded.

"Just everything you wanted from him with no other context?"

"Yes." Martin told him shortly.

"And you had to answer him?"

"Yes." Martin replied through gritted teeth.

"Oh Martin." Tim tried to hide a smile behind his hand.

"I'm hoping he doesn't remember." Martin groaned.

Tim snorted.

"Go get some rest, and don't worry, if he forces me to tell him what I think about him I am happy to tell him."

Martin did not look very comforted by this. 

"Just go easy on him." Martin pleaded. "He's really ill." 

"Fine." Tim told him dismissively, ushering him out the door. 

Once Martin had left Tim went back to work he left the door to document storage open though, so he could keep an ear out for any sign that Jon needed help. 

He could hear Jon snoring easily enough from his desk so he decided to just leave him sleep and went back to work. 

After around forty minutes he heard Jon start to whimper and struggle in his sleep, he was just psyching himself up to go wake the man from what he guessed was a nightmare, when he heard Jon choke himself awake and start coughing. 

He was certainly no quieter now that he was awake, there was a near constant soundtrack of coughing, sniffling, sneezing and nose blowing from the moment he stopped snoring. Eventually Tim decided to go check on him.

He walked in without knocking.

"Only me." He told Jon when the man inevitably jumped out of his skin.

"Mind keeping it down? The neighbours have lodged a noise complaint." Tim teased.

Jon was in the middle of a sneezing fit so he couldn't really say anything, and just gave Tim a watery glare over the clump of tissues he had pressed to his face.

"You OK?" Tim asked after the fit went on for long enough that he felt he should really say something. He had planned on telling Jon off for stifling his sneezes, which was something Tim used to snap at Jon about all the time when they worked together in research and Jon would have prolonged allergy fits that he tried to crush into oblivion despite it always having a poor result. 

It annoyed Tim for two reasons. One, it didn't actually make him much quieter, and two it sounded painful.

But it didn't seem like he was doing anything on purpose, he was just so stuffed up no air was getting through at all. 

"They won't stop." Jon grumbled despairingly from behind his clump of tissues.

Tim couldn't help but feel a little bad for the guy. He looked and sounded wretched.

"Can I get you anything?" Tim asked.

Jon shook his head.

"I can make you some tea if you want" Tim insisted. "Won't be as good as Martin's, but it will be tea."

"Did Martin...?" Jon began to ask but then trialed off, looking embarrassed. 

"He just went home to rest." Tim told him. "He'll be back later, I'm sure."

Jon nodded.

"I just wanted to apologize." He admitted.

"Oh you remember using your Jedi mind tricks on him then?" Tim asked.

"My what?" Jon spluttered, which started him coughing.

"Take it easy." Tim told him, amused, Jon and Martin were kind of cute in how useless and hopelessly awkward they both were. "He wasn't angry, he only bough tit up incase you accidently used it on me."

Jon's face went through an interesting series of emotions as he seemed to recall events from the previous night. But before Tim could ask him about it Georgie arrived.

"Jon! How are you feeling?" She asked poking her head into the room. 

Jon was still trying spluttering and trying to catch his breath over whatever he was remembering that he had done to Martin and couldn't answer.

"Oh you poor thing, you sound dreadful." Georgie told him sweeping into the room with her arms laden with bags of things, presumably to help Jon feel better. She began to fuss over him and Tim took this as his que to leave.

Tim found Melanie back in the offices, her feet up on her desk, frowning at her phone.

"Have your heard from Basira?" She asked by way of greeting.

"No." Tim admitted. "I messaged her a few times last night but... nothing."

Melanie frowned.

"Yeah same, Daisy either." She said.

They fell into an uneasy silence, listening to Jon and Georgie arguing in the next room. Georgie was berating him about something but she was on the far side of the room and they couldn't make out what, and Jon's defense was barley audible with his voice so strained and an octave lower than normal.

"Should we be worried?" Melanie asked.

"Probably?" Tim sighed and groaned. "Damn they were the least worrying ones. I thought out of everyone they could look after themselves."

Melanie bristled at this.

"I can look after myself." She snapped.

"They had weapons and training...Daisy straight up killed monsters." Tim pointed out.

"I'm sure they're just busy." Melanie said after a tense silence apart from Jon and Georgie's muffled bickering.

"Oh yeah, of course. that's exactly how things turn out here." Tim agreed, dryly sarcastic.

Georgie remerged from document storage.

"I have to be off." She told them brightly. "But call me if you need anything." 

She gave Melanie a quick squeeze on the arm as she walked past. "We should catch up for dinner later, I'll txt you details." 

She left without waiting for an answer but Melanie looked pleased. Until she noticed Tim raise an eyebrow at her.

She scowled at him.

"Mind your own business Stoker." She snapped. 

"Huh..." Tim smirked.

"What?" Melanie growled.

"Well... Georgie is Jon's ex right?"

"She is a person independent of that, but yes, they dated a long time ago." Melanie told him stiffly.

"Guess she has a type." Tim grinned.

"EXCUSE ME?" Melanie fumed.

"Small and bitchy." Tim mused.

"I am NOTHING like Jonathan Sims." Melanie grit out.

But underneath her anger Tim felt she was enjoying herself. It was nice to argue about normal everyday things for a change.

"Small, bitchy and furious." Tim teased.

Melanie looked ready to tear him apart.

Then Elias came into the room and ruined the moment by being there.

"Ah, Tim, Melanie..." He greeted them. "Good work on retrieving our archivist." He told them, blandly approving, as if rescuing Jon from the circus had been some particularly well worded document.

"Shame you only delayed the unknowing rather than completely stopping it but that could not be helped I suppose."

"Just go away." Tim told him dully.

"Not like you were any help." Melanie hissed at him.

"Seems like you all had it quite under control." Elias said, his voice a smug purr. 

But then his face fell.

"Oh dear." He sighed. "It seems that Basira is on her way over here to try and threaten some information out of me." He frowned mildly.

"I'm afraid this may be somewhat unprofessional." He said regretfully.

"Are you serious?" Melanie scoffed at him.

Before he could answer Basira burst into the room, seeing Elias she rounded on him furiously.

"Where is she?!" Basira demanded.

"I assume you are referring to detective Tonner?" Elias asked smugly. "I assure you I have no idea."

"Bullshit." Basira hissed at him. "You know things, you know what happened to her."

Basira grabbed Elias by the scruff of his clothing and shoved him against the wall. She was slightly shorter than Elias but broad and strong and clearly furious.

Despite his position Elias seemed unruffled.

"This is hardly going to help your situation Basira." He warned her.

Basira thumped him harder against the wall.

"Where is Daisy?" She spat at him.

"I don't know." He told her calmly. "I'm not omnipotent. Though if I had to guess I'd say she attacked something out of her league, bit off more than she could chew so to speak."

Basira glared at him, pressing into his chest, making him have to strain to breath.

"I assure you." Elias told Basira. "If I knew where she as I would say... Detective Tonner was...useful..."

"Useful..." Basira growled. 

At this point Jon stumbled into the room, looking ridiculous with his wild bed hair and shaky new fawn legs.

"Get away from her." He commanded Elias, his croaky voice rippling with static.

Elias scoffed at the absurdity of the command, gesturing to Basira's grip on his neck.

Basira sighed and dropped him.

"Thank you." Elias told Basira, smoothing his ruffled clothing, nonplussed.

"You know things too. Can you tell me anything about what happened? About where Daisy is?" Basira asked Jon.

Jon just stood there swaying, blinking at the scene before him in confusion.

"Daisy is missing?" He asked, bewildered.

Basira's face fell.

"Jon you look ghastly, go back to bed." Elias told him.

Jon gave him a withering look. 

"Like you care." he snapped. "I was missing for a week, you couldn't have located me earlier?" He accused.

"As I was explaining to Detective Hussain, I am not all-knowing, I can't see everything." He told them breezily.

"Anyway, your team managed well enough without me." He continued. "So I feel confident leaving the current problem with you all."

And with that he bid them good day and left.

Jon looked dazed.

"What happened?" He asked Basira.

"Yesterday, at the waxworks. I was helping some of the other officers, they were taking down this massive, horrible thing made out of skin and..." She trailed off shuddering.

Jon nodded like he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Daisy was going after those two cockney guys, the ones who abducted you." She sighed. "I didn't see what happened. Someone said Daisy killed one of them and the other one ran off." Basira shook her head, looking devastated. 

"No one knows what happened to Daisy. She was just gone."

Jon looked troubled. He reached out to Basira and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. 

"Don't worry." Jon told her. "We will find her, we'll get her back I promise."


	10. Chapter 10

Martin could not return to the archives until late afternoon, around the time everyone would normally be leaving for the day. He had been bone tired after an exhausting week of worry and stress over Jon being kidnapped, followed by a night of caretaking. So he had really needed to catch up on sleep. And the various things you need to get done in life to just, be an ordinary person don't go away because you are in some weird supernatural mystery, so he had needed to cook and clean, and do laundry and pay bills and check in on his mother.

He didn't think leaving Jon for so long would be an issue though, Georgie had texted Martin to let him know she had dropped by the archives with a humidifier, some extra blankets and had badgered Jon into eating some breakfast and taking his medicine. And although Tim wasn't very happy with Jon at the moment he had obviously been worried about the archivist when they had rescued him from the circus. He probably wouldn't be doting on him but Martin was sure Tim would make sure Jon was OK.

Martin was not expected the scene he walked into when he returned.

Tim and Melanie were sharing a computer, bickering with strong sibling energy. Basira and Jon were sat at another desk, so intent on there conversation they didn't notice Martin entre the room. The desk was covered in scattered pieces of paper, statements, a tape recorder, and maps. Clustered around Jon was a detritus of crumpled tissues, cups of half drunk tea and empty cough lozenge wrappers. 

Jon was explaining something to Basira and she was listening attentively.

"....this statement is the most recent one mentioning them..." Jon was saying, he paused to cough and clear his throat roughly. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and was still looking tired and ill, his voice was so croaky and stuffed up Basira seemed to be straining to follow what he was saying.

"Jon." Martin said in surprise as he stepped into the room, not expecting to see Jon awake, let alone doing research.

Jon looked up briefly from what he was doing. 

"Oh hello Martin." Jon greeted him, having the audacity to look puzzled at Martin's concerned frown.

"Why are you... I mean, you were really ill last night... and you probably still... are you sure you should be out of bed?" He asked, confused. 

"Daisy is missing." Jon told him.

Martin's brain short circuited trying to fit Jon's answer with his question.

"Daisy's missing? Since when...? What? Even so...you're still sick...." He stammered blushing with embarrassment since everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him and he had hardly put together a coherent sentence.

"We tried telling him to go back to bed but he won't listen." Basira told Martin blandly.

"Yeah, poor lil' guy, best we could do for him is keep him warm and hydrated while he makes terrible life decisions." Tim agreed, with a teasing grin.

Melanie snorted.

"Thank you Tim." Jon snapped. 

"But I'm an adult and don't need coddling."

As he argued this his expression went hazy and he had to muffled a string of sneezes into his blanketed shoulder. Sniffling thickly he looked woozily around the cluttered table for the tissue box and not finding it in time resorted to wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"I feel better than last night." He told Martin, a tiny bit sheepishly.

"That is not a very high bar." Martin scolded him.

"Martin's right." Basira, to Martin's surprise, backed him up. "You're not well, you've done enough already, you should go and lie down."

Basira was a little touched with how immediately and intently Jon had been on board with finding Daisy, considering she had tried to kill him.

After Elias had been a dead end Basira was at her whit's end with what to do next. She had already followed every lead she knew of and there was just no trace of Daisy, no one had seen what happened. Jon had been helpful in snapping her out of her despair. 

"Have you already spoken with everyone who was there at the waxworks? Did you think anyone was withholding information? Could you get them all to come here to be interviewed?" He was immediately laser focused on the problem and seemed to forget the pesky little details of his physical health.

Basira gave him a skeptical look, he was swaying slightly where he stood. 

"Look I appreciate the sentiment, but why are you even here? You look like death warmed up." She criticized.

Jon huffed, it made him cough and Basira had gently pushed him over to the desk to sit down.

"I can help." He pleaded giving her a blast of sad eyes.

Basira was unmoved.

"I can! Please, just...tell me everything, from the start, how you worked out I was missing and how you found me. If Breekon and Hope have Daisy it may be useful information for finding her." Jon had insisted.

And Basira found herself doing just that. Explaining the process of narrowing down where Breekon and Hope had taken Jon, the raid on the Waxworks, her panic when she realized Daisy was missing and the steps she had taken to look for her. It all flowed from her like a proper narrative, succinct but descriptive when necessary. When she was done she glared at Jon in realization.

"Don't do that." She snapped at him. 

Jon had been watching her with rapt attention as she spoke, a tape recorder winding quietly on the desk in front of him. At her angry tone he blinked hard, like he was coming out of a daze.

"Do what?" He asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"Don't use your power on me." She told him firmly.

Jon blushed and stammered out an apology.

She it hard to be mad at him long though, he was clearly a bit out of it, all dizzy and confused with sluggish response time to questions. 

Jon and Basira spent the day combing over all the research they had previously gathered on the strange delivery men, chasing any new reported sightings of them and any possible leads on where they might go now that the circus had been scattered. At the same time they scanned police radio frequencies for anything that could be related. Melanie and Tim were running through security footage around the Waxworks area that they had gotten from Basira's contacts in the police.

Jon had initially seemed to perk up a little after Basira gave him her story, but he was flagging after a few hours, his eyelids sitting at an unnaturally low angle and his eyes dull.

Elias had dropped back down to the archives and given Jon a statement to read.

"Will it help us find Daisy?" Jon asked eagerly.

"Maybe not, but it will certainly help in general." Elias told him cryptically and made a quick exit before the staff went from staring at him murderously to actually murdering him.

Jon read the statement aloud as everyone seemed curious. It was about a man marrying a giant bug.

"How the hell is that supposed to be helpful?" Jon whined when he was done reading, scrubbing at his face. He was tired and frustrated and his voice was starting to give out. He had been really hoping for some small win. But no, just more weird creepy bullshit.

"I'm going to STAB him." Melanie growled. "Right in his stupid pompous FACE."

Basira had been flicking through the statement while Jon and Melanie complained.

"You're fluent in French?" She asked Jon.

"Hmmm? No hardly, I only know a word or two." He told her distractedly, still annoyed at Elias.

"This is written in French." Basira told him bluntly.

Jon's face fell. Everyone else in the room went quiet.

"It is...?" He asked timidly. 

Basira nodded solemnly.

"So that's new then?" Tim asked.

"Yes?...I mean...." He shrugged helplessly.

"I guess so?"

He shuffled uncomfortably in the silence that fell over the room.

"It's not...it could be useful I suppose...?" He trailed off, not sure what to say

"Well, maybe." Melanie said shortly, looking irritated.

"But that's not really the point is it?" She said.

Tim said nothing, his expression was guarded. Privately he felt a pang of regret, they had all been working well together, now he could feel how uncomfortable everyone was again. They were all unsure how to feel about Jon's abilities, and Jon retreated back into himself, putting up walls, hiding himself in work. Which had probably been Elias's intention all along Tim thought bitterly.

When Martin came back to the archives he was disappointed with the other's at first that the other archive crew hadn't taken better care of Jon. He looked so ill and frail it shocked Martin they had agreed to letting him work at all. But it soon became clear that it was Jon who had insisted on working and the others had actually tried to care for Jon as best they could with his stubborn attitude. It was doubtful Jon had gotten himself the cups of tea, or the blanket.

"It's about time to nock off anyway." Martin told Jon reasonably.

"You should call it a day, take it easy from now on."

Jon shuffled papers on his desk and looked harried.

"Daisy is still missing..." he hedged.

"Well, I can take over from you, then the same number of people are still looking for her..." Martin reasoned.

Jon didn't look quite convinced, still shuffling though papers, refusing to meet Martin's eye, he muttered something about probably not being able to sleep anyway.

"It's just... you kind of scared me last night... you were so sick, and I was really worried..." Martin fretted.

Martin had just wanted to convince Jon it was ok to rest, he wasn't trying to make him feel guilty so he instantly regretted his words when he saw they made Jon more stressed.

"I'm sorry Martin, you shouldn't have had to look after me" Jon told him regretfully, curling into himself with shame. 

"But I can't just stop looking for Daisy, I can't..." Jon struggled for words, swallowing thickly and blinking hard to trap tears that were trying to push their way up against his will.

"It's all my faults and...I don't want to...I can't lose anyone else." 

Jon looked away from Martin and stared hard at the cluttered table. Worried if he looked at Martin's face it would be all soft and full of sympathy and understanding and he would probably just break into a million pieces. 

Basira touched his shoulder and Jon flinched slightly, not expecting the contact.

"It wasn't your fault." She told him emphatically.

"It wasn't even..." She sighed. "You were kidnapped, and even so...Sure we were looking for you but even if you weren't there we still would have gone to try break up whatever those creepy clown things were doing."

Basira looked exasperated. 

"I mean, I'm not sure how much I believe about them changing the whole world or whatever, but they are clearly dangerous." 

Jon barked a humorless, watery laugh at this, it was dangerously close to a sob and Basira squeezed his shoulder again in response.

Tim had come over to Jon as well when he started almost crying. 

"What happened to Sasha wasn't your fault either" He said softly.

"I shouldn't have said that to you. I mean, you were being an arse, but I never really thought any of this was your fault. I was just angry." Tim told him sadly.

"No Tim... you don't have to." Jon told him, being to tear up in earnest. 

"I'm not trying to... I'm not asking you to forgive me, it wouldn't be fair I just, I want to be better. I'm trying to be better." Jon swiped at his eyes frustrated, trying to get control of himself, hating how on display he always felt when he cried.

Tim squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"Well, part of being better should surly include listening to us right?" He reasoned.

"For example listening to us when we are trying to take care of you?"

Jon huffed. He slumped a little, defeated.

"Go get some rest." Basira agreed. "We all should, we'll pick this up tomorrow with fresh eyes."

Basira left for the night, perhaps to set an example, or perhaps because she was also exhausted, not having slept since she first discovered Daisy was missing.

Melanie left to have diner with Georgie.

Tim and Martin to escorted Jon back to the cot in document storage. 

"I doubt I'll be able to sleep anyway." He grumbled petulantly as they led him to bed.

"I'm too stuffed up and keep sneezing and coughing, it's not very conducive to sleep." He insisted.

"Yes well I'm sure just relaxing in bed will bed better for you than researching whatever horrible things you have been researching." Martin told him firmly, blandly amused by Jon's weak attempts to get out out of resting like a normal person.

"Maybe we could all watch something." Tim said thoughtfully. 

Jon and Martin both looked at him, surprised.

"If you're not sleepy yet." Tim clarified. "We could all watch some bad TV, get some takeout, until you are."

The ordered some food and made a nest of the cot, pillows from the couch in the breakroom and blankets Georgie had supplied that had them all warm and content, huddled behind Tim's laptop. 

Jon fell asleep not even 5 minutes in to the first episode of whatever terrible reality TV show Tim chose.

"Ha, I knew it." Tim said smugly when Jon started snoring.

"Oh he was so tired." Martin exclaimed, looking fondly at Jon's sleeping face.

"Why couldn't he just take the day off like a regular person?" Martin sighed, adjusting the blankets they were all under to make sure Jon was snug.

"Partly because of his weird guilt complex, partly, I think, because he didn't want to be alone."

Martin nodded feeling unbearably sad.

When the food arrived they woke Jon up to eat. He was so sleepy though he kept dropping off between bites.

"Oh yeah, you will never get to sleep." Tim teased him the second time he jolted awake between mouthfuls.

"Are you going to stay the night again?" Tim asked Martin when they were done eating and had watched several episodes, with Jon snoring congestedly between them. He didn't seem to be making fun though, his tone was serious and face grave.

"Yes." Martin told him simply.

Tim was silent a moment, just looking at them both sadly.

"What will you actually do if something does show up?" He asked.

Martin looked uncomfortable.

"I'll..."

Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing, OK." Martin snapped.

"I wouldn't be able to do anything." he admitted.

Tim nodded.

"I'm going to stay too." He said, his voice sad and resigned.

"Well, I mean, it will be nice to have you, but what would you be able to do?" Martin asked, cautiously.

"Nothing." Tim admitted.

"I don't think anyone can do anything." He he looked down at Jon's sleeping face, his own expression pensive and distant.

"I used to think, I don't know, that you got drawn into the supernatural, or you made bad choices, or ignored danger warning signs or something..." He trailed off bitterly.

"Now I know that isn't true, it doesn't matter. You just have to take the wrong turn, get on the wrong bus, meet the wrong person, and that's it. And there is nothing any of us can do." Tim sighed.

"Well...That's comforting." Martin huffed.

Tim laughed a little.

"I'm sorry, I just think that's how it is. But...it feels better, to be together...even if there is nothing we can do." He admitted.

Martin hummed in agreement. 

They watched bad TV together until they both fell asleep in the odd little nest they had made in document storage.


	11. Chapter 11

Tim was pulled from a pleasant dream in the middle of the night. Jon was struggling and whimpering in his sleep, clearly in the grips of a nightmare. The room was dark but not pitch black, they had fallen asleep with the laptop still running, looping endlessly through the adds for various shows and occasionally asking them if they were still watching. 

In the dim light of the screen Tim could make out Jon's face, scrunched in displeasure. His body shook with tremors of fear. Tim was still fuzzily trying to think how to wake Jon without startling him when he heard Martin also wake up.

"Hey, Jon. Shhh, it's OK, you're OK." Martin's voice was so gentle Tim doubted it would wake Jon, who typically slept like the dead.

He reached up and gently rubbed a hand up and down Jon's shoulder, hoping the combination would get through to him. 

Jon woke up with a frantic gasp that set him off coughing. Martin was already rambling soothing nonsense at him and Tim was already rubbing his shoulder so they just kept at it until he calmed down.

"Sorry I woke you." Jon whispered when his breathing returned to normal.

"It's alright." Martin soothed. "Not your fault you had a nightmare." He smoothed a palm over Jon's forehead.

"No wonder, your fever is back." Martin told him.

"I'll get you some Panadol." Martin got up to get the medicine.

"Was it the circus?" Tim asked softly.

He felt Jon shudder and regretted mentioning them. But apparently that hadn't been what was tormenting Jon this time.

"Spiders." Jon said in a small, lost sounding voice.

Tim rubbed his arm again to comfort him.

"Here." Martin pressed some pills into Jon's hand and then handed him a bottle of water.

Jon took the pills and drank all the water, crinkling the bottle in his eagerness to get all the liquid.

"Are you still thirsty?" Martin asked him. "I can get you more?"

"No, stay." Jon told him, sleepy and a bit out of it.

"Don't worry about spiders." Martin told him soothingly. "If any come along I will trap them in a glass and a piece of paper and take them outside.

Jon scoffed at this which made Martin chuckle.

"And if any clowns show up I have an axe." Tim added. Both Martin and Jon scoffed at him. 

It took them all a long time to get back to sleep. Jon kept moving around, adjusting his position. Every time he did the congestion in his head and chest would shift and he'd have to sniffle and cough until it settled. Then he would only lay still a few moments before shuffling around again.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked him.

"Sorry, I'm keeping you up." Jon sighed.

"That's not what I asked." Tim told him firmly.

"You seem uncomfortable." Martin said. "Are you too hot or cold?"

"No it's just, everything aches." He told them miserably. "All my muscles and joints."

"I suppose being tied to a chair for a week will do that, even if you didn't have a fever." Tim reasoned, probing the tight muscles in Jon's neck and shoulders he could instantly see why the guy was uncomfortable.

"Can you lay on your stomach so I can get to your back?" he asked.

"I don't think so." Jon told him. "Even if I lean forward too far that pain in face just explodes."

Martin made a soft sympathetic noise.

"You really are a mess aren't you." Tim asked him, gently working his fingers into the knots at the base of Jon's skull. This was enough to relax him and lull him back to sleep.

Jon woke them all up again a few hours later with another nightmare. This time he dreamt he was falling and moaned and thrashed for several minutes while Tim and Martin tried to convince him he was safe. 

"Was it this bad last night?" Tim asked Martin quietly once Jon had calmed to a twitchy, restless doze.

"Worse." Martin told Tim grimly.

Tim was so glad he had stayed. It wasn't fair on Martin to deal with this alone, he must have been beside himself the previous night.

Jon woke them up again in the very early hours of the morning, this time coughing up a lung. 

Martin got up and got him more water and medicine and shushed his rambling, breathless apologies. 

The next time they woke up it was somehow midmorning and Georgie was there cooing about how cute they all looked. Martin and Tim left Georgie with Jon for awhile and went home to eat and shower and change. Jon complained that he didn't need a baby sitter all the time but Georgie was completely unfazed by his grumpy attitude.

"Shut up and eat your breakfast Sims." She told him.

Georgie couldn't help but badger Jon about leaving the institute. She understood his reasoning, she believe him he was trying to do the right thing, but she hated that he wasn't even trying to get away. That he just seemed to accept he had to stay in this terrible place indefinitely. 

Tim was feeling a bit better about life. Not because his situation had improved much but because he was getting more comfort from the relationships he had with people around him. He was enjoying being close to Jon and Martin again, he had missed them. And he was making friends with Melanie. She was like Jon in that she took herself way too seriously and was therefore really easy to mess with. And he begrudging admired her spirit when she tried to murder Elias.

She had come bursting back into the archives, wide eyed and full of nervous energy. When Basira asked her what was wrong she explained she had tried to poison Elias but it hadn't gone well.

"You're not worried that killing him would kill all of us then?" Basira asked raising an eyebrow. 

Melanie scowled.

"Of course not! Don't you think that's a little convenient?"

Melanie puffed herself up and did an Elias impression.

"Hmmm yes I have created a perfect loophole to protect myself, if you kill me it will kill everyone including yourself, I'm not going to provide you with any proof of this but mark my word I am untouchable." 

She scoffed.

"Even if it is true, I'd rather die than be trapped here." She insisted.

"That's not a choice you should get to make for all of us." Barisa reprimanded her. Melanie refused to be sorry or promise she wouldn't try again.

They fell into a kind of rhythm in the archives. Tim, Melanie, Basira and Martin researched Breekon and Hope and looked for any news on Daisy. But they also continued to research The Stranger because Elias insisted the Unknowing had only been delayed and they would have to deal with it eventually. They also looked for any information they could find on the institute itself, to see if they could find a way to break their connection. 

Jon was somewhat of an office cryptid, sometimes he would recite chunks of random information, or know things no one had told him yet. Or do unsettling things like stare at a pile of statements for 20 minutes then pull one out seemingly at random and say it was important and they should look into it, and it would turn out to be relevant to what they were researching. He was still too sick to work but would wander into the archives, usually wrapped in a blanket and looking like a complete mess, trying and insert himself into any work they were doing before he was chased back to bed.

"So are the three of you just going to live in the archives from now on?" Melanie had asked Tim the second day he slept the night.

Tim shrugged.

"I'm going to stay until Jon isn't running a fever anymore, Martin will stay as long as Jon is here alone, and Jon will stay until me and Martin can convince him he is being an absurd, obstinate fool by living in the archive basement like some sort of goblin."

"Huh, good luck with that." Melanie scoffed.

It was easier to convince Jon to stay in bed if he was kept in the loop about what was going on. And the easiest way to do this was with the tape recorder. 

One afternoon Martin and Tim were playing chess and Jon was listening to the tapes from the day when there was one of the not infrequent chunks of recording that was not a statement or research notes but just people chatting, having forgotten they were recording. It was Melanie and Basira.

"Do you think the three if them are...you know..." Basira was asking Melanie, you could practically hear the raised eyebrows in her voice.

"Having wild orgies every night?" Melanie quipped.

Tim smirked and Martin blushed, overhearing the tape.

"Well, maybe not wild orgies but..." Basira said on the recording, sounding amused.

"No." Melanie said decisively. "Maybe Tim and Martin, but according to Georgie, Jon _doesn't_..."

"At all?" Basira sounded surprised. "Well, that does explain a few thing..."

The tape cut off with a sharp click as Jon pressed the stop button, he looked sad and annoyed.

Martin was blushing furiously and looked very uncomfortable and out of his depth.

"I'll talk to them." Tim said to Jon.

"No it's ok, it's just harmless gossip." Jon said. He had been sitting up in bed listening to the tape with a cup of tea. Now he curled up into the the blankets.

"I'm tired, I'm going to take a nap." He said.

Tim got up from the chess game and sat down next to Jon in their nest/bed. 

"It's ok to be upset, they have no right to be making assumptions about your sexuality or talking about it without you present." Tim told him.

Jon made an unhappy, grumbling sound.

"It's not that...I just... I hate it when people think I am a prickly, uptight prick _because_ I'm asexual." Jon admitted.

"Right, because obviously you are a prickly uptight prick independently of your sexuality." Tim agreed.

"Exactly." Jon huffed a small laugh.

"It makes me feel like they think I'm defective, like if I could fix this one big flawed part of myself I would just be...I don't know fixed...? I hate the idea that who I am is considered a defect." Jon explained. 

He let Tim put an arm around him and relaxed into the hug.

"I understand." Tim told him, he had copped a lot of this type of thing himself for being bi. Some people not considering him straight enough, some people not considering him gay enough, people who should really know better. He bet Basira hated people making assumptions about her relationship with Daisy. He bet Melanie hated people thinking she was angry all the time because she was a lesbian. 

"I'll talk to them anyway." Tim insisted. "They shouldn't be gossiping about any of us, just look what they did to poor Martin." 

Martin was still blushing and hadn't moved from his frozen position since he heard the women discussing him sex life.

When Tim said this Martin seemed to snap out of it. 

"Please don't mention I heard the tape!" He squeaked, panicked.

After four days of no real improvement Georgie dragged Jon back to the doctors for a check up. They gave him a different type of antibiotic and told him to try and rest and eat more. Georgie seemed to take this is her own personal call of duty to show up at the archives more often to feed Jon snacks and make sure he was in bed.

One night when Jon had been keeping them all up for over an hour by coughing and coughing and coughing, Martin got up to make him some tea with honey. He was gone a long time and Tim was just starting to wonder what the hell was taking him so long when a disjointed, eerie laughter rang through the poorly lit room.

"What do you want?" Jon rasped at the distortion, sounding much too pissy to be talking with a monster that could easily kill him in Tim's opinion.

"I'm going to kill you archivist." Michael laughed. 

"Please leave us alone." Tim begged, clutching Jon to him in fright, Jon was trembling and felt so small and fever hot.

Michael laughed its disorienting laugh.

"Why?" Jon asked him. "You helped us before."

"I helped your assistant." The distortion argued, it's voice singsong. "And you let her die anyway."

"Sasha." Jon said miserably. "I didn't want.."

"Anyway.." Michael interrupted. "I don't want the eye to win, so I'm afraid there is no more saving you, or your assistants." It laughed again.

"Martin." Jon gasped. "He's gone, what did you do with him?"

"He wasn't paying attention." Michael grinned its impossible grin. 

"Half asleep, he didn't even notice which door he opened." the distortion crooned.

"Give him back!" Jon demanded, trying to get up, but the exertion set him off coughing.

"So that you can offer him up when it suits you?" The distortion accused haughtily. "You already have this one, you're being greedy." 

Jon struggled out of Tim's grasp and to his feet.

"Please, Martin's never hurt a soul in his life." Jon sobbed. "Please let him go. I'll do whatever you want."

The distortion seemed to consider this. It stood, wavering impossibly, its blond curls swirling like a migraine aura.

"You would give your life for his?" It asked playfully.'

"Jon no!" Tim hissed, frantic.

But Jon ignored him.

"Yes." he said without hesitation.

"Leave my assistants alone and I'll go with you, into your hallways." He said firmly.

Michael stared at him for a moments, its expression terrifying and unreadable.

"Very well." It said finally and a door creaked open.

"No!" Tim cried desperately but he was pinned back by an impossible hand.

"You don't know how lucky you are." The distortion told Tim bitterly and the door creaked shut, leaving Tim alone.


	12. Chapter 12

For Martin the time in the hallways was fairly uneventful. He made a cup of tea in the break room, went to document storage but found himself in a dark hallway instead. Sleepily thinking he had simply gone the wrong way he merely turned around and opened the door again. 

Martin stepped out into the fully lit offices in the archives, blinking like a confused nocturnal animal that had been dragged out of it's burrow during the day. 

"What?" He asked, he had just enough time to wonder if he was sleepwalking when Tim barreled into him and wrapped him in a hug.

"Martin!" Tim cried, hugging him then pushing back quickly to asses him.

"Are you alright?" He asked anxiously.

"What happened in there?"

Martin blinked at him, returning the hug, confused and trying to save the tea from sloshing everywhere.

"What do you mean?" He asked puzzled.

"Um...how did I get here?" He looked from Tim's stress lined face to Basira and Melanie, who were also staring at him like he was some sort of apparition.

"You were just in Michael's hallways for 9 days." Tim told him.

"What?" Martin asked shrilly.

"How long did it seem for you?" Basira asked.

"I don't know, a minute or two." Martin said, feeling disorientated.

"Did you see Jon in there?" Tim asked him eagerly.

"Jon's in there too?" Martin asked, his eyes widening with panic. 

"Yes that idiot went in after you." Tim said despairingly.

Martin turned back to the door he had just come through and went to throw it open but Tim grabbed him fiercely.

"No!" He shouted.

"You can't do that." Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. 

"You can't do that to me again." He sobbed.

"OK." Martin told him gently. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be reckless, I wasn't thinking." He soothed.

Tim nodded, he looked close to tears.

"It's been...hard." He said quietly. 

"I was just starting to feel like...I don't know, there was some chance I could be happy again. Then both of you..." His voice broke and Martin gathered him into another hug.

"I'm so sorry Tim." Martin told him, rocking him gently.

"What are we going to do?" Martin asked the room, once Tim had calmed down.

"To get Jon back I mean." He clarified when no one said anything.

"As far as we can tell there is nothing we can do." Basira told him.

"We just have to hope he manages to escape or Michael decides to let him go."

....

The moment Jon stepped into the hallways he felt dizzy and disoriented. It was just as Helen Richardson had described, a long, windowless corridor lit by electric lamps attached to the walls every ten feet or so. Walls papered in a swirling green patterned wall paper, faded yellow carpet with a thick black rug in the center that disappeared off as the path very gradually curved to the left. All along the walls hung paintings or photographs of that same corridor from various odd angles. 

Turning around he saw the door he'd come in through was already gone.

"Michael." He called, his voice sounding tiny and weak in the empty hall.

"Show me that Martin is safe." He was trying to sound commanding but his voice was croaky and sounded pathetic to his own ears. 

"I need some kind of assu..." His voice cracked on the words and he started coughing. 

Getting it under control he called out again.

"How can I know you lived up to your end?" He croaked. If he kept yelling at the hallway he was going to lose his voice soon. 

Picking a direction at random he started walking. The air was dry and dusty and irritating, it was warm in the corridor but Jon couldn't stop shivering, his skin felt horribly sensitive and prickled with goosepimples. 

He called out to Martin in case he was there as well but there was no answer, no sign of him, which Jon supposed was good. He also called out to Michael again a few times but got no answer, not even an eerie, mocking laugh. He couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad thing. He hoped desperately that Tim and Martin were alright. 

After walking for some time he saw a mirror on the wall and was a bit shocked by his reflection. He hadn't really seen it in awhile. He wondered when he started looking so haggard, when his hair had got so much grey. His eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark, bruise-like smudges but the iris's were so bright, the electric light nearby flickered and his eyes flashed green. 

Jon gasped and jumped back from the mirror.

"Don't like what you see Archivist?" Michael asked, appearing behind him without being reflected by the mirror.

Jon gasped again and choked and coughed then scowled at the monster.

Michael laughed it's double laugh, like a discordant echo. 

"Martin?" Jon wheezed, when he caught his breath.

"You...you let him go free?"

Michael grinned at him, static squealed, it set Jon's teeth on edge, the pain in his face throbbed.

"I did." His eyes swirled like whirlpools. "It's you that I want to kill." 

"Prove...wait why do you want to kill me?" Jon snapped irritated. 

"I told you." Michael grinned smugly. "I don't want the eye to win, and with you dead it can't. The distortion mused. 

"And, of course, there’s revenge."

"For what?" Jon complained. "I've never done anything to you, I don't even know who you are."

"I am Michael. I was not _always_ Michael. I do not _want to be_ Michael. Being Michael stole the only purpose I have ever known." The distortion hissed at him, growing agitated.

"You were Gertrude’s assistant, weren’t you?" Jon asked, stepping back as far as he could.

"No." Michael told him shortly.

"But, but the tape... I heard you..." Jon protested.

" **No.** You heard Michael" Michael told him slowly, like he was explaining something to a child.

"The Michael on that tape was not me. When that person was Michael, I was something else, and now **I** am Michael, and that person is gone. **"**

"So, what… You… you became him?" Jon asked.

"No more than he became me. It is rare that someone I take finds their way into being me, but it does happen. And Michael had help." The distortion fell silent, bitterness swirling in it's impossible eyes.

"What happened?" Jon asked quietly.

"Hm…Ahhh, a _statement._ Of course. Is your recorder running?" Michael asked laughing, mocking.

"No I don't...I was in bed I didn't have one with me." Jon explained.

"Are you sure?" The distortion giggled and Jon felt like his ears might start bleeding.

But then he felt a soft vibration in the pocket of his pants, it was a tape recorder, already whirling quietly as it recorded.

"Statement of… Michael." Jon said aloud for the tape.

"Taken from subject.... Date…"

"The last day of the Archivist’s life." Michael supplied

"Statement begins." Jon sighed.

Michael told it's story. A terribly sad story of a naïve and well meaning young man, deceived and betrayed by Gertrude Robinson. 

"But you… You never tried to take revenge on Gertrude?" He asked when the distortion was done.

"She knew how to protect herself, and killing her was not as important. She wasn’t as good an Archivist as you are." Michael told him.

"What does that mean?" Jon asked.

Michael's eyes swirled with anger.

"Don't do that." It hissed, it's long sharp finger reaching out to Jon threateningly.

Jon backed away, wide eyed with fear.

"Don't try and compel me." Michael warned him.

"Or what? You'll kill me?" Jon snapped at him.

"You already said you're going to do that." Jon kept backing away though, despite his tough talk.

"What do you mean you don't want the eye to win?" Jon asked, feeling the air fill with static. 

"Stop it." Michael demanded. Jon's words seemed to hurt it somehow, it flinched and roiled in on itself. It's long sharp fingers retracted and left it looking much smaller and more human.

"Why do you think killing me would stop the eye from winning?" Jon pressed.

Michael cried out in pain and anger and staggered backwards, it ran from Jon, away down the hallway and into a hallway in a painting on the wall.

Jon stood staring after the retreating figure for a moment, shaking hard with shock, then he turned away and kept walking. 

He felt strangely energized after his meeting with Michael, a kind of jittery unpleasant energy like from drinking too much coffee, but nevertheless it gave him the strength to keep going. The aesthetic of the hallway slowly began to change, it happened so gradually he couldn't explain how or when it changed but suddenly he noticed it was completely different. The faded yellow carpet was replaced with bare floorboards, the rug was now a richly patterned Turkish runner. The frames of the paintings and photos of hallways were gold and ornate. 

He wasn't sure how long he had been walking when he came across another person. It wasn't Martin or Michael, instead it was a woman, she was sitting calmly on the carpeted floor of the corridor and scribbling at a piece of paper, muttering to herself.

"Helen?" He asked as he got a closer look.

"Helen Richardson?'

Helen looked up at him and smiled, pleased but calm, like she had just run into an old friend.

"Jon! Oh hello! fancy seeing you here." She smiled at him.

"Helen, are you alright? You've been in here for months now." Jon asked her, his forehead scrunching with concern.

"Goodness, you sound like you've caught a nasty cold." She told him sympathetically. 

Jon just gaped at her.

"Oh! but Jon, good news!" She told him brightly. "I think I may be getting the hang of this map." She help up the paper she had been scribbling on to show him an incomprehensibly complex pattern of interwoven geometric shapes.

"It's like I was telling you all along, it's all right turns." She smiled and it was a bit too wide for her face, her iris's swirled like galaxies.

"You're not Helen." Jon gasped, backing away from her.

"Hmm? Well of course I am. Are you alright Jon? Perhaps you have a fever?" See reached out towards him, he moved away but her fingers kept extending, impossibly long to reach his forehead. 

He yelped and jumped back, tripping and falling to the thick rug he coughed horribly at the sudden change in posture shifting the congestion in his chest.

"Oh poor thing, you sound positively dreadful." Helen told him. "You ought to be tucked up in bed not running around these drafty hallways catching your death." 

"Come on now." She told him kindly helping him up and politely ignoring the way he flinched.

"You're not her." Jon said angrily. "You're just wearing her face."

"I must say Jon." Helen said breezily. "Your attitude is a bit hypercritical, after all you have changed quite a bit too since I last met you."

Jon had no response to this.

"OK here you are." Helen told him as they arrived at a door.

"What... where does it lead?" Jon asked hesitantly.

"Back to your archives of course." Helen told him laughing, it echoed faintly.

"Unless you'd rather go somewhere else?"

Jon shook his head, bewildered.

"But...what about Martin?" He asked, swaying dizzily where he stood now that Helen had let go of his arm.

"Who?" Helen asked, looking faintly amused.

"My assistant? Michael took him into the hallways." Jon explained.

"Afraid I can't help you with that one." Helen told him with a shrug. 

"Why don't you go lie down for awhile, you can look for your friend when you're feeling better." She said opening the door and gently pushing him through.

"Do come visit me again though won't you?" She called as the door clicked shut.


	13. Chapter 13

Jon stumbled out of the hallway and into the archive offices. The lights were on but they were empty and quiet. Being in the basement there was no window through which he could tell what time of day it was. A clock on the wall said 10:25 but that could be morning or night.

Desperately thirsty he made his way to the break room and found Melanie, her back was to him and she was getting herself a mug from the shelf. 

"Melanie." Jon croaked, happy to see someone who could help him, he felt so dizzy he could barely stand and had to lean heavily on the doorframe. 

But when Melanie turned and saw him her eyes filled with rage and she shrieked in anger and hurled the mug she was holding at him.

It probably only missed him because he was swaying so much. The mug hit the doorframe and shattered, spraying ceramic shards everywhere.

"Melanie it's me." Jon pleaded.

"Oh it's _you_? Oh good! How _wonderful_." Melanie snapped, caustically sarcastic.

"I was...I don't..." Jon stammered, baffled by her vitriolic reaction to him.

"Who even are you? What are you?" She asked angrily.

Jon only managed to stutter a string of indignant noises before she interrupted, continuing her tirade.

"You keep disappearing then just showing up again, looking like a ghoul and everyone is just supposed to worry over you? And yet you keep escaping from these horrible situations that most people would never get out of, and all that despite looking so pathetic and thin and sickly you might collapse at any moment. How is that? How is it you always manage to get away unscathed?"

Jon swayed and blinked at her in shock.

"Hardly unscathed." He grumbled holding up his bandaged hand. 

"Oh sure, the odd scar here or there to keep everyone worried about you but not like you are really in danger like the rest of us, is it? Not like _you_ could die." She sneered.

"Did somebody die?" Jon asked anxiously, cold dread pooling in his stomach.

" _Sasha_ died." Melanie yelled, furious.

"I meant..." Jon choked out.

"Did you forget about that already?" She hissed.

"No I..." He felt so confused and dizzy, his head was pounding, he desperately wanted to lie down.

Melanie pursed her lips and shook her head at him contemptuously.

"You're not fooling me anymore Jon." She told him, she took a step towards him and him stumbled away expecting her to hit him. But she was just pushing past him through the door from the breakroom back to the offices. 

"I know what you are now, I know what you do to people." She accused.

"What I...?...what?" He asked bewildered.

"Did you think we wouldn't find out?" She asked angrily, backing away from him across the room, as if he was dangerous and had to be kept in view.

"Melanie... I...?" Jon pleaded.

"Just stay away from me." She snapped, then she was gone.

Jon sunk dizzily to the floor and just stared after her, unsure what to do. 

A few moments later Basira came from the direction Melanie had disappeared. She approached him slowly.

"Jon?" She said cautiously.

Jon looked up at her.

"Basira, you're not going to attack me as well are you?" He asked, equally cautious, but a Jon typical note of irritation in his voice and a faint scowl.

She didn't answer him right away, just looked down at him, as if assessing.

"Where were you?" She asked eventually.

"I was in the hallways, the distortion took Martin, I had to get him back." Jon told her, then his eyes widened in realization, he still didn't know Martin was safe.

"Martin! Where is he? Is he ok?" Jon panicked.

"He's fine, he wasn't in there long." She told him, she frowned at him, considering.

"You were there the whole time?" She confirmed.

"Yes, why, what do you mean?" He asked confused, nervous.

She didn't answer him again, still having that look of assessing a situation.

"You still sound ill, how long did it seem to you that you were in there." She asked.

Jon felt his heart sink.

"I don't know, eight hours, maybe a day?" He shrugged.

"You've been gone for two months." Basira told him bluntly.

Jon gaped at her. 

Two months of his life were just gone. Two whole months his friends were left to deal with the archives and Elias and all the other bullshit without him. Two months ago from what he remembered already seemed like the distant past, he had thought Sasha was alive, he hadn't known about Elias, he hadn't realized yet how important his friends were to him. Now he had just missed the equivalent amount of time. It was an unsettling and disorienting feeling.

"I think I need to lie down." Jon mumbled, rubbing his face in his hands, feeling close to tears.

"Can you walk?" Basira asked, her voice softening for the first time since they'd been talking.

Jon wasn't sure, he was able to lever himself up to standing using the wall but didn't think he could stand upright without support. To his surprise Basira offered him her arm to help stabilize. He had expected her to be reluctant to touch him, guessing her hesitance at being near him was due to how horribly snotty and germy he sounded.

Basira helped him over to document storage. The nest bed on the floor was cleared away with the pillows and blankets gone, the mattress had been returned to the cot which was neatly made. 

Basira helped him onto the cot.

"Need anything else?" She asked.

"Umm, water." He asked, he was confused and saddened by how lonely and empty the room felt.

"Sure." Basira left and returned with a plastic bottle.

"Basira..." Jon said as she went to leave again.

She paused and waited, still staring at him like he was insect she hadn't quite identified yet.

"Where is Tim?" He asked.

"He's here, in the institute, but he doesn't come down to the archives much anymore, he has an office upstairs." She explained.

"Oh...he does?" Jon was puzzled buy this, he couldn't work out if this was a good thing or not.

"A lot happened while you were away." Basira told him.

"Is Tim ok?" Jon asked nervously.

"He took it pretty hard when you and Martin went missing, don't think he really recovered." Basira told him.

Jon winced a little to hear this. 

"And Martin? Where is he?" Jon asked.

"Not in today, had to take his mother to a specialist or something, seems like she's not doing so well." Basira shrugged.

"Oh...I'm sorry to hear that." Jon felt guilty, he was so caught up in his own suffering he hadn't thought to ask Martin about his mother in all the time he was taking care of him in document storage.

"Yeah." Basira said. She didn't sound convinced of his sincerity, she turned as if to leave again but Jon stopped her.

"Why did Melanie attack me?" He asked desperately.

Basira frowned at him, she didn't seem to want to talk about it but she started explaining anyway.

"This nurse came in to make a statement a few days before you went missing. Georgie had taken you to see a doctor so you weren't there, and Tim didn't want to tell you about it until you were feeling better. Apparently she treated you in the hospital just after the circus."

"Oh, yes I remember, the gall bladders." Jon grimaced with disgust, that had not been a pleasant one. 

"She came to make an official statement?" Jon asked, not sure why this was relevant to Melanie attacking him.

"Not about that, about you." Basira told him.

"I suppose I was an odd patient..." He mused.

Basira just gave him that dissecting stare for a few breaths.

"What?" Jon asked, irritably.

"Do you remember your dreams." She asked.

Of all the things she might have said he had not been expecting that.

He choked in surprise and coughed until he had to take a sip of water.

"Sometimes I guess." He wheezed.

"D'you remember dreaming about this nurse? About the story she told you?" Basira asked.

Jon thought about it, his memory was murky and confused since the hospital, full of terrifying fever dreams, but yes he did have the idea he had dreamt about that disgusting encounter with the supernatural she told him about.

"Yes, I think I have." He shrugged. "I dream about the statements I hear sometimes, it's only to be expected."

"Hmmm." Basria hummed noncommitted.

"Well she came in to make a statement saying that ever since she had spoken to you she dreamt about being back there, in the operating room, reliving her experience over and over again every night, and you were there watching it all." Basira told him.

Jon scoffed.

"That's all? It's normal to dream about things that are upsetting or traumatic, she probably just inserted me into the dream because I unwittingly reminded her about it." Jon said, annoyed.

"That's what Tim thought, when he took the statement." Basira agreed. "So he didn't mention it to anyone."

She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"But the thing is, the nurse wasn't the only one. Daisy mentioned it too. She said that ever since she talked to you she would relive the experience she told you about over and over again in her dreams, and there you were, just staring at her, every time. It was one of the reasons she was so convinced you were a monster."

"I...er...I don't..." Jon stammered, feeling rising dread, he did vaguely remember dreaming about Daisy, but it didn't mean anything...he was just dreaming about people he saw that day....

"Georgie too." Basira told him harshly. "Said she told you about something that happened to her, and guess what? Same thing, relived it every night. When you went missing it was the first time since she told you about it that she didn't dreamt of the worst moment of her life, with you there drinking it all in."

"No...Georgie..." Jon said brokenly, shaking his head, as if he could refuse it from happening.

"Tim remembered that once some lady who had come in to make a statement lodged a complaint about you, so we went through your employee file, looked at all the complaints. There were four, Naomi Herne, Dr. Lionel Elliott, Jordan Kennedy, and Tessa Winters. Do you know what all those people have in common? "

Jon shook his head mutely even though he did. 

"They all gave live statements to you in person, they all complained you have been haunting their dreams."

"I don't understand." Jon told her, he was shaking and on the verge of tears.

"So you don't know anything about it?" She asked Jon. 

"No I swear." Jon told her fervently.

She didn't look convinced.

"But you remember dreaming about them?" She asked.

"Well..." Jon hesitated.

"They were just dreams." He said sadly.

"But you never mentioned them to anyone." She said suspiciously.

"Why would I?" He asked. 

She didn't look hugely convinced.

"Well now that you know it is a thing, and that it's hurting people, you'll stop?" She asked, it sounded accusing.

"How?" Jon asked, he was distraught, but is came across as snippy and Basira's face hardened.

"Work it out." Basira told him, a threat evident in her tone. And with that she left him.

Once she left Jon curled up in the cot and stared at the wall. He wanted to cry but was too exhausted and dehydrated. He felt cold and detached from his body. He hoped desperately that Basira would let Tim and Martin know he was back because he had no energy to even begin to look for his phone, or find any other way to contact them. He needed them so badly, he needed someone to care he was sick and cold and in pain, he needed someone to tell him he wasn't a monster. 

After a few hours Jon summoned the will to sit up and drink some of the water Basira had left, the small table beside the cot had a variety of medicine boxes neatly stacked. Jon wasn't sure what he should take. He had been so vague and addled that Martin had taken charge of keeping track of his medicine. He squinted at the writing but his vision doubled and he couldn't make anything out. 

He was very grateful to find a box of tissues though and blew his nose over and over until spots danced in front of his vision. Then he curled up under the blankets and shivered and shuffled around, miserable and uncomfortable. He wasn't able to sleep well or deeply. He couldn't breath properly and it kept jolting him awake just as he drifted, the congestion making him think he was back with the circus, tied up and gagged. Or he would get that sensation of falling you get sometimes as you fall asleep, and thinking he was back in the vast would wake terrified and on the verge of a panic attack he had no energy for. 

Eventually though, the fever and exhaustion succeeded in pulling him under into a sleep deep enough for dreams. In his dream he walked a path he had walked many times before. He walked down a subway entrance, down the concrete steps until they became chipped and cracked and eventually just rough hewn earth, and then just a gradually sloping tunnel deep under the city, down beyond anything but sodden earth and despair. He walked until he arrived at a train, twisted and pressed in on all sides, nothing but shrieking metal and cracked glass. He climbed inside, and took his seat, mouth tasting of mud and soil, his eyes moved through the dust and grit unblinking.

Across from him was a passenger, trapped in a seat by the twisted metal. Dry dirt trickled between her teeth as she smiled mirthlessly when she saw that Jon had returned. She looked relaxed despite her situation, suspended from a dozen broken handrails and shattered, jagged seats. They cut her flesh, but she did not bleed. There was no pain in her eyes. There was nothing except the certainty of her fate.

The train began to move, the wheels screaming with the awful weight of it, every part buckling and pressing in, but the expression on the passenger’s face did not change, even when the contorting metal crushed her skull like an egg. Just as she vanished from view Jon caught a glimpse of an advert above his seat: “Dig.”

Jon woke up with a terrified gasp. Not frightened because of the horrifying train car in his dream but because of the awful surety that he was a monster. He was soaked in sweat, his heart pounding against his ribcage, he shook uncontrollably. 

But the details of the dream faded quickly and he lost everything but he vague idea he had done something wrong and felt guilty and on edge without knowing why. 

There was no chance of more sleep after that. The sweat chilled and he couldn't get warm enough to relax. Every part of him ached or throbbed or stung. He didn't think he had ever felt more miserable and alone.

He didn't remember sleeping but he must have because he hadn't noticed anyone approach him, but someone had, there was a gentle, cool hand on his forehead. 

Martin.

He knew even before he cracked his fever gummed eyes and squinted up at the distinctive silhouette. 

He tried to ask Martin if he was alright but the only sound he was able to make was a feeble, croaky wheeze, his voice was completely gone.

"Shh it's OK." Martin told him pointlessly, since Jon could say anything if he wanted to.

"Come on, we're no staying here."

Martin lifted him gently, cradling him to his chest. 

Jon didn't question where they were going. He dozed and missed most of the transit to what he assumed was Martin's apartment. He honestly had no idea if they had caught a cab or Martin had carried him like a princess on the tube. 

He checked back in to Martin helping him undress while rambling about not looking and trying to respect Jon's privacy but Jon really needed a nice hot shower but didn't seem capable of on his own.

Jon scoffed and tried clumsily to help Martin peel his sweat socked cloths off to show he really didn't care.

"I wish I had a bathtub." Martin told him regretfully. "It would be a lot easier, and more relaxing for you."

Martin was kind of holding Jon up and helping him wash himself. Martin had elected to remain fully clothed in an attempt to show Jon he had no ulterior motives and his clothes were getting soaked. Jon wanted to reassure him he didn't care but he had no voice at all. Martin also had the shower screen open because it was an oppressively tiny shower and they both didn't fit, so water was spraying all over Martin's bathroom. He didn't seem to mind. 

The steam from the shower helped loosen the congestion in Jon's head and chest and he hacked up an impressively disgusting amount into the shower drain. He wished he could apologize for being so gross but Martin instead of being appalled encouraged him, telling him it was a good thing and would help him feel better. 

Shower over Martin helped Jon dress in some clean clothes and tucked him into bed. He seemed to be about to leave and Jon became distressed. Grabbing his arm frantically.

"I'm just going to heat you up a can of soup." Martin told him fondly. "I won't be far, the bedroom and kitchen are kind of the same room."

But Jon wouldn't let go.

"OK." Martin relented, climbing in next to Jon and pulling him into a hug. "We'll have a quick nap first but then food and medicine."

Jon nodded sleepily against him, finally feeling safe.


	14. Chapter 14

Martin loved his mother, and he worried about her endlessly. He was sure she loved him, in her own way, but it was just so difficult to deal with her moods. He knew she lashed out because she was hurting and uncomfortable. But knowing that didn't make her harsh words sting any less, didn't make her flinching away from him in distaste feel any less like a knife in his heart. 

So after an exhausting morning with his mother and a depressing lunch in a hospital canteen Martin was not very eager to check the message he heard his phone receive.

Assuming it was from Basira he waited until he had finished his last bite of dry sandwich and last sip of tepid tea to check the text. To his utter shock it was from Tim.

Tim had been impossible to get in contact with recently and it had driven Martin almost to despair. If he hadn't had Georgie's friendship to comfort him the combination of Jon's disappearance and Tim's distance would have destroyed him utterly.

Eagerly he checked the message. Three words. 

"Jon is back."

That was all. No amount of calling or texting got any further information from Tim as Martin hastily made his way back to the archive. He saw Basira and Melanie leaving as he rushed down to the archive offices.

"He's in document storage." Basira told him blandly.

Melanie just scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.

He ignored them and rushed to document storage.

He found Jon curled up on the cot asleep. He seemed unhurt but his face was scrunched in discomfort and he was shivering visibly. He was surrounded by used tissues, scattered but unopened boxes of pills and an empty water bottle. His breathing was rough and whistled with congestion. Martin laid a gentle palm over Jon's forehead. It was concerningly warm and dry. 

Martin felt a wave of anger at Basira and Melanie. Jon clearly wasn't OK, he clearly needed help. They had just left him, ill and alone. 

Jon only partially woke up when Martin touched him and mumbled something insensible, Martin thought it might have been his name but Jon's voice was so gravely he couldn't be sure. 

Carefully peeling back the blankets Martin lifted Jon, pulling him to his chest, muttering soothing nonsense too him as he did so.

He felt Jon burrow into him and carried Jon out of the institute. Rosie was also leaving for the day and as she saw Martin carrying Jon she looked rushed over to them looking panicked

"Is he alright?" She didn't seem surprised, she didn't ask what had happened, but she did look appropriately worried and horrified by the state Jon was in and this made Martin absurdly grateful.

"He's sick, I'm taking him home to rest." Martin told her, she just nodded and offered Martin a lift home which he gladly accepted.

The drive was a bit awkward, Martin rode in the back with Jon trying to sooth him when he whimpered and seemed distressed, only half aware of what was happening to him. Rosie was quiet, but Martin saw her watching them in the rearview mirror a few times.

"It isn't right." She told him solemnly as he extracted Jon, an unhelpfully lax bundle of limbs from Rosie's car. "What they put you all through in those archives..." She bit her lip and looked stressed, like she was worried she'd overstepped. 

"Thank you for the lift." Martin told her, not sure what else to say.

Once Jon was settled and asleep Martin finally allowed himself to cry, silent fat tears of relief. He had known Jon was going to return. He just knew it. But the past two months had been so lonely and awful. And now here he was, so warm and fragile against his chest Martin felt like his heart might burst with relief. He wished Tim would stop whatever nonsense he was caught up in and come join them. With great care he got his phone and fired off a text without jostling Jon in anyway. 

"Jon is still sick and has a fever, but I'll take care of him now, I don't care what everybody thinks." Martin messaged Tim, he didn't get a response but he was sure Tim was glad to know.

Martin didn't actually sleep. He just lay quietly next to Jon, writing poems in his head, listening to Jon's congested breathing and watching Jon's eyes flicker under bruised looking lids, trying to predict if the dreams were pleasant or not. 

After an hour or so he decided he really should try and get Jon to eat something. He only had some depressing canned and frozen food. He lived alone and his kitchen was basically just a microwave and an electric hotplate so cooking was not his strong suit. Deciding pointedly not to care about finances for the time being he retrieved his phone and ordered laksa, he knew Jon loved spicy food and even if he couldn't taste it the heat and spice would help open his airways. When it arrived Martin reluctantly woke Jon to eat.

Jon woke up with a frightened gasp that set him of coughing.

"It's OK, you're safe." Martin told him quickly. 

"You're at my apartment." He added noticing Jon squinting around the room in confusion.

Jon tried to say something but the only sound he was able to make was a harsh rasp that instantly made him cough.

He tried again with the same result and scowled.

Martin tutted sympathetically.

"Here, sit up for a minute, I got you some soup, it might help your throat." 

Martin propped Jon up in bed with pillows. 

It took Jon a long time to get through a bowl. He could only breath through his mouth so he had to keep taking breaks between spoonfuls to catch his breath.

When he was done eating he tried to talk again but still couldn't form any words, he sighed and pouted. 

"You want to know what happened while you were trapped?" Martin guessed.

Jon nodded mutely. 

Martin looked him over, considering. Jon still looked tired and unwell, Martin didn't want to stress him out anymore than he already was.

"Medicine and tea first." He bargained. 

Jon nodded again, he was still pouting, probably annoyed he couldn't fire off a million questions. Martin suppressed a fond smile.

"How long did it seem like for you? In the hallways I mean." Martin asked, wondering if the antibiotics Jon had been taking would still be viable.

He looked up from the box and saw Jon was just staring forlornly at him. 

"Oh right, you can't speak." Martin found him a notebook and pen. 

"A day." Jon wrote, but then shrugged.

Martin felt a flood of relief at this, it still must have been horrible for him but at least he hadn't been suffering in there too long.

"Well, you only missed one dose of your antibiotics then, so lets keep trying with the coarse." Martin told him.

Jon nodded tiredly and took the pill, wincing as he swallowed it.

Martin handed him his tea.

"I was only there a few seconds really, never even saw Michael, the cup of tea I made was still hot and everything." He told Jon.

Jon gave him a tiny smile.

Martin returned it warmly. He knew he shouldn't be so happy, he knew logically he was still trapped in a horrible situation with the archives, his family consisted of a mothers who openly disliked him and an absent father, he lived in a depressing two room apartment he could barely afford the rent on. But none of it mattered, because Jon was back. Jon was warm and present and alive and it filled him with so much relief he felt giddy. 

"Tim told me what you did." Martin told Jon softly. 

But Jon's face fell, he looked nervous, fiddling with the teacup and suddenly refusing to meet Martin's eyes.

"That you traded yourself for me, so that Michael would let me go." Martin clarified. He saw Jon's stance relax and wondered what Jon had thought he was going to say.

"That was...you didn't have to do that, it was...." Martin felt lost for words, tearing up a little. "Thank you."

Jon was shaking his head, looking miserable. He reached out and squeezed Martin's hand.

"Please don't do anything like that again though Jon, you can't keep putting yourself in danger." Martin chastised him.

Jon sighed heavily, he still looked sad and nervous. He picked up the notebook and wrote a shaky line of text, then held it up for Martin to read.

"Do you know about the dreams?" It read.

Martin scoffed irritably.

"I know some people you have taken statements from have seen you appear in their dreams." Martin told him.

"I do not agree that makes you some kind of threat, and I certainly don't think it makes you a monster." He said emphatically.

Jon wrote another line and held it up.

"Does Georgie? Does Tim?" 

"Georgie doesn't think you have any control over being there in her dreams. She isn't mad a you, she is confused and worried. And well, she's dating Melanie now...so she can be a bit biased about certain things..."

Martin watched Jon's reaction to this news carefully, not sure how he'd take it. Jon was clearly still very fond of Georgie, and although Jon and Melanie had achieved a civil working relationship, it was clear they had somewhat clashing personalities.

But Jon just kind of smirked, amused. He wrote something else in the pad and help it up with a questioning frown.

He had actually just underline Tim's name on the same note as before and added another question mark and exclamation point.

Martin sighed He had hoped to put off telling Jon about Tim but he should have known better. Jon always had to know what was going on.

"Tim is kind of a mess." Martin hedged. "He's pushing everyone anyway. Even me, I wouldn't take anything he has to say very seriously right now." Martin explained.

Jon looked heartbroken.

"Any news about Daisy?" He wrote next.

"No." Martin told him sadly. "I'm sorry, it's like she just vanished."

Jon nodded, like he had expected as much. He started writing another question but had to stop suddenly to muffle a string of exhausted sounding sneezes into his shoulder.

"Bless you, maybe you should go back to sleep, that's probably enough news for one day." Martin said, handing him a box of tissues.

Jon scowled at him and quickly scribbled another question.

"Has Elias done something to Tim?" It read. 

"Elias has gone." Martin told him, smiling as he saw Jon's eyes widen in shock.

"Yeah, Melanie, Tim and Basira kept trying to... uh... murder him.... or get him arrested, or just, make his life kind of difficult...." Martin laughed nervously, remembering some of the things they had got up to. He would tell Jon in more detail once he was better rested.

"Eventually he got annoyed and just left." Martin shrugged. "He sent us an email one day saying he was taking an extended leave of absence and we haven't seen him since."

Jon seemed elated and Martin felt horrible to have to tell him about Elias's replacement.

"It didn't make anything better." He admitted reluctantly. 

Jon frowned, and shrugged in an "of course" kind of way.

"Yeah, he assigned a replacement, and the guy is just so..." Martin shuddered, trying to think of a way to describe their new acting head of institute.

"He's kind of overly jovial in a very cold, slimy, corporate way, if that makes sense?"

Jon seemed to consider this, then nodded. 

"His name is Peter Lukas, he's part of that family that has featured in a bunch of statements." Martin told him. 

Jon shivered visibly at the mention.

"Don't worry, we don't have much to do with him." Martin reassured Jon. 

Jon sneezed again. It rattled his whole frame and seemed to take more energy than he really had to spare, he slumped heavily into the pillows.

"OK that's enough catch up for now." Martin told Jon firmly, extracting the notebook from him and helping him settle into a more restful position. He put the notebook and pen on the table by the bed though, incase Jon needed it later.

"You need to rest." He told Jon.

He expected Jon to argue but Jon just nodded sleepily. 

He frowned blearily at Martin as he fussed around, clearing away the soup bowl and tea cups.

"What is it? Do you want anything else?" Martin asked him.

Jon nodded and lifted the blankets next to him.

"Are you too hot?" Martin asked.

Jon huffed, and rolled his eyes. He patted the bed next to him and looked pointedly at Martin.

"You want me to lay with you?" Martin asked feeling oddly shy.

Jon scowled and rolled his eyes again and patted the bed more firmly.

Martin huffed an amused laugh and obligingly got in to bed next to Jon. he wasn't all that tired but was happy to lay next to Jon and card fingers through his hair, gently teasing the tangles from his curls. Jon made a small contented noise and melted into Martin's side. Falling asleep almost immediately.

Martin was almost starting to doze off when his phone rang, shrill in the quiet room. He grabbed it quickly and was relieved to see Jon hadn't stirred.

It was Georgie.

"Martin! Melanie told me Jon is back and that he is staying with you." Georgie said.

Her voice held a slight note of accusation, and he quickly apologized for not letting her know earlier. 

"How is he?" Georgie asked.

"Sick as a dog." Martin told her. "For him it was only a day, so he hasn't had any time to get better, and I assume just had a horrible day of being tortured by yet another monster." 

"What did he say happened?" Georgie asked.

"He can't talk." Martin explained. "He lost his voice."

"Oh and Basira and Melanie told him about the dream thing instead of, you know, taking care of him in any way. " Martin added annoyed. 

"Melanie is traumatized." Georgie defended. "And she is protective of me, she hates the whole haunting my dreams thing." 

"Yeah well Jon isn't crazy about it either." Martin told her shortly. "He thinks he's a monster."

Georgie didn't say anything for a beat.

"Georgie!" Martin scolded.

"Look I know you don't want to hear it Martin but he is changing, and he might not want it but he also isn't fighting it.

Martin looked down at Jon's worn face, his scars, eye bags, red nose and sheen of fever sweat along his hairline. He didn't understand what more could anyone expect of Jon right now than just getting by.

"That isn't fair." He told her angrily. "He sacrificed himself for me. How is that not fighting?" 

Georgie sighed on the other end of the phone.

"Yes he is good at throwing himself into danger." She agreed. "That's hardly the problem." 

"I don't want to argue." He told her tiredly. 

"I know Martin, I'm sorry, I am glad he's back." Georgie said, she sounded a bit contrite so he let it go. 

For the next three days Jon and Martin lived like this. Jon only woke up to eat or go to the bathroom, or have a shower. Martin took time off and stayed at home to look after Jon. They ordered takeout and watched movies together and ignored the world.

After two day Jon got his voice back, though it was hilariously squeaky at first, randomly dropping low into unintelligible huskiness or going oddly high pitch. 

Of course he immediately began to get more details from Martin.

"Why is Tim working upstairs now?" Jon asked. 

Martin suppressed a smile at Jon's absurd voice, a mix of raspy whispers and squeaks.

"He is working as Peter Lucas's assistant." Martin told him.

"Why upstairs though?" Jon pressed. "And you said he was a mess. What's going on with him?"

"He's...he thought he lost us both and he took it really hard...like drinking for days on end and trying to kill Elias with an axe hard...then when I came back he was determined that nothing bad should happen to any of his remaining friends I guess, so he made a deal with Peter Lucas." Martin shrugged.

"I don't know the exact details, he won't talk to me about it, but I do know a bunch of people around the institute had disappeared before he made the deal." Martin said grimly.

Jon looked worried.

"Why won't he talk to you though? Does he know I'm back? Doesn't he want to see me?" Jon looked small and sad as he asked this and it broke Martin's heart.

"I'm sure he does." Martin told Jon.

"But he is always so busy now, I never see him, he doesn't answer his phone, he won't take visitors. He says he is working on something important and that I should trust him." Martin shrugged helplessly.

"I'm worried." He admitted.

"Tim is working for an avatar of The Lonely, who is isolating him, that definitely sounds worrying." Jon agreed. He tried calling and messaging Tim many times but got no response, Jon decided it would have to wait until he was able to go back to the institute in person and corner the man.

After three days Jon felt well enough to get up and potter around Martin's tiny apartment. The antibiotics and rest were working, the congestion in his head and chest were finally clearing and he was feeling a lot better. 

Though he felt guilty about even thinking about it, Martin was a little worried that the soft, casual intimacy that had developed between him and Jon would fade as Jon got better. When he no longer needed Martin quite so much. But this didn't seem to be the case. Even after his fever broke, Jon preferred to sleep curled up next to Martin, using him as a pillow. 

Sadly it couldn't last forever, after roughly a week Jon woke up feeling sick to his stomach, tired and listless. 

"I think we need to go back to the institute." Martin admitted unhappily. He was feeling the beginnings of it too, it didn't seem fair.

"Yes." Jon agreed unhappily. It had been a nice vacation but he could tell if wasn't going to last. "We have to go back." 

"Don't worry, it had to happen eventually, and now we can go gang up on Tim and force him to stop making terrible life choices." He told Martin, nudging him playfully to snap him out of the despairing mood he seemed to be slipping into. 

"Oh Tim is going to HATE getting that advice from you of all people!" Martin agreed with a grin.


	15. Chapter 15

When Martin and Jon arrived at the institute after a week away they were met with a pretty lackluster reseption. Melanie stormed out of the room the second she saw Jon, muttering under her breath.

Basira just raised an eyebrow at them entering together. 

"Good to have you both back." She told them.

"It is?" Jon asked brightening visibly. 

"Well yeah, lot's to do, and we have been seriously short staffed." She told him. 

"Er yes...I suppose you would have been" Jon told her, he still seemed more or less happy with her reaction, but Martin was cold and passive aggressive with Basira for the rest of the morning. 

Jon tried to find Tim, but when he dropped by his office Tim would be absent. When he called it went to voice mail. Emails were met with clinically polite automatic responses. But there was, at least, plenty of evidence Tim was around. Rosie confirmed she sometimes saw him come through the entrance to the building in the morning. The lights were on in his office, his bike was chained up in the employee carpark. Sometimes it seemed Jon just missed him, he once found a still warm cup of half drunk coffee on Tim's desk. 

Jon realized he would probably have to stake Tim out, surprise him when he didn't see it coming. But Jon was recovering and still had residual stuffiness and a lingering cough. He got tired easily and wasn't feeling up to stake outs and confrontations just yet.

Jon continued staying with Martin. One day, Basira, who was a surprising gossip, asked Martin about it.

"So are you two...together?"

"That's really none of your business." Martin sniffed. Remembering the tape incident angrily.

"OK no need to be snippy." Basira shrugged. "Just curious..." 

But this did make Martin wonder exactly how Jon considered their relationship. So he decided to just ask.

"So are we...together?" He asked that evening. 

Jon was cooking them dinner, it turned out he was actually a reasonable cook, and was able to make the most of Martin's sadly basic kitchen. He was pretty rubbish at cleaning up after himself though.

Jon blinked at him in surprise for a beat. He huffed a small laugh.

"Yes I suppose we should talk about it properly." Jon agreed. 

Martin nodded, feeling a little nervous. Suddenly irrationally worried Jon would tell him he was moving out the next day.

"Do you remember what you said that time I accidently compelled you?" Jon asked him.

Martin blushed.

"Yes." He groaned. "Unfortunately."

But Jon seemed oddly disappointed by Martin's response.

"Oh, you...you regret what you said?" he asked in a small voice. Becoming very focused on the vegetables he was chopping all of a sudden.

"I...um...I mean it was pretty embarrassing." Martin admitted. "I told you I wanted to read you poetry." He blushed.

Jon chuckled.

"Martin, I already knew that." He grinned.

Then his expression turned grave.

"Look, the thing is...I'm not great at relationships. Never have been. I'm prickly, and stubborn and opinionated and..." He sighed.

"Well no point beating around the bush, me being asexual has been a problem in every relationship I ever attempted. I had kind of given up on the idea that I could ever be with anyone to be honest." he huffed a small disparaging laugh.

"But what you said to me that night, the things you wanted from me...it sounded nice...I...that's what I want too." 

Martin was crying, but smiling stupidly through the tears.

He gathered Jon up in a hug.

"So you _**do**_ want me to read you poetry?" He asked, and felt like his heart would burst with happiness, just holding Jon close so he felt his soft huff of laughter in response. 

But such was their lives that things could stay peaceful for long. 

Apparently other avatars had taken issue with their attack on the Stranger's ritual. The archives were attacked by the Flesh. It wasn't clear how they had got into the building without alerting anyone else. They were horrible lumbering creatures of muscles and sinew and thick solid bone. There was five of them in total, Jared Hopworth, who was simply enormous, and four of his creatures. Jared ignored Melanie, Basira and Martin and made a beeline for Jon's office. 

Melanie was set upon by a creature that was all thick, solid torso, rippling with abs and connected to strong sculpted legs that had too many knee joints. She screamed in rage, produced a silver straight razor from no where and with cold, furious precision sliced deeply into the most vulnerable parts of the torso, slashing great bleeding wounds into the apparition and dodging it's swinging limbs, and then buried the razor presumably where it's heart was. The creature dropped and twitched on the ground. 

Basira blasted rounds into two more fleshy, body horrors. One writhed and screamed as the bullets bit into it. The other jumped athletically over the desk avoiding the fire. it seemed to wait for Basira to need to reload. Then it flipped up into the air with it's muscly arms and descended on her. 

Melanie cut it down mid air buy hurling Tim's axe at it. The creature got up though, axe lodged in it's side, spurting blood. It turned to go for Melanie instead. Melanie produced another knife from seemingly nowhere and went to battel with it. She sliced at the creature but took a hard punch that knocked her senseless. She did manage to distract it long enough for Basira to reload and shoot the beast in the back until it dropped motionless as well.

Another flesh creature descended on Martin. He just stood there, pop eyed with terror and no clue what to do. A door no one noticed opened suddenly into the creature's path, knocking it off course. Michael stepped out, laughing his double laugh. The flesh creature got up and rounded on the newcomer. But Michael stabbed his long, sharp fingers into it, almost casually, and it dropped with a gurgling bloody gasp to the floor. 

Everyone stood panting and staring at each other for a beat.

Jon's office door opened and Jon came out, pale and wide eyed and being supported by a woman no one recognized.

"Don't worry." She beamed at them all. "I got the big one. What a beast! That guy never misses leg day amiright?!"

Everyone stared at the two of them in shock. Except for Michael who grinned at the newcomer.

"Oh you caught him alive." Michael said happily.

"I did!" The woman smiled. "Why don't you go say hello?"

The Michael distortion grinned impossibly wide and disappeared back into it's doorway.

"What the fuck was that?!" Melanie asked.

"Oh hello, we haven't met, I'm Helen." The new woman told her cheerfully.

"Right..." Melanie side eyed her, still holding her knife and looking like she hadn't decided whether or not to stop stabbing things.

"What _are_ these things?" Basira asked kicking one of the dead creatures.

"Hmmm...don't know. Isn't life exciting?" Helen mused.

"They're avatars I think." Jon told her shuddering. "Is everyone ok?" 

"Was that Michael?" Martin asked astounded.

"Yes." Jon agreed. "Did he?..." He nodded towards the flesh creature slumped dead before the yellow door.

"Kill that thing? Yes, with his _fingers_." Martin said, still looking panicked.

"Are there anymore coming?" Basira asked Jon.

He seemed to consider this carefully.

"No I don't think so." He told her.

"Well you didn't see those ones coming." She criticized. 

Jon scowled and looked embarrassed. 

"Melanie, do you always carry a knives around with you?" Martin asked her nervously.

Melanie glared at him.

"Oh like that was the weirdest thing that just happened." She snapped. 

"It's just...you killed two of those things, that's pretty unbelievable for..."

"I was defending myself!" She growled at Martin, looking like she might attack him too if he wasn't careful.

"Can we get back to who you are?" Basira asked , gesturing to Helen with her gun. Helen grinned and laughed delighted, it echoed strangely, like it was out of synch. Her hair and eyes seemed to swirl impossibly.

"You're with the Distortion right?" Basira accused. "Why is the distortion helping us all of a sudden?" 

Helen hooked an arm around Jon in a chummy sort of way, ignoring the grumpy expression this prompted.

"I want to be friends of course!" Helen told her pleasantly.

"And Michael?" Martin asked nervously.

"Oh yes, Michael is an absolute sweetheart when you get to know him." Helen insisted.

"He adducted me, Tim and Jon, and he _stabbed_ Jon once!" Martin squeaked indignantly.

Jon frowned at Helen.

"Didn't he... _eat_ you?" 

Helen chuckled, it gave everyone faint tension headaches.

"Oh bygones..." She said vaguely. 

"Well, thanks I guess." Basira told her.

"Are you serious?" Martin snapped at Basira.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh so weird supernatural bullshit is a problem if it's Jon but is fine if it's anyone else, well that's fair." Martin fumed.

"No." Basira snapped back. "It's a problem when it's hurting innocent people and it's fine when it's stopping terrible things from happening." 

"Let's not argue now." Jon said tiredly. "We need to deal with the..." He gestured to the grotesque bodies.

"Oh never mind about them." Helen told them brightly. "I can get rid of them. I'll just drop them into the middle of the ocean or into the river Nile or some such place."

"Convenient." Melanie admitted.

Once Helen had left, dragging the bodies with her with a cheerful, long fingered wave, the others grimly cleaned up the offices.

"Are you sure we can trust them?" Martin asked Jon.

"Absolutely not!" Jon scowled.

"Why not?" Melanie asked.

"They were infinitely more useful than you."

Instead of getting a rise out of Jon this just made him look at her thoughtfully.

"What?" she snapped.

He blushed.

"There is something off with you, I...I can't quite explain it but..." He began but Melanie interrupted him.

"Are you joking?!" She seethed.

"There is something off about me?!"

"I'm not trying to insult you.." Jon tried frantically to explain. 

But Melanie was coming at him, a glint of sharp steel flashed in her hand. Luckily for Jon Basira intercepted her with trained ease.

"Melanie!" Basira scolded the smaller woman.

"I know he's annoying, but you can't stab him!"

Melanie drooped the knife, she didn't even remember picking it up, she looked a little dazed.

"I...I wasn't going to." She argued. "I just wanted to scare him a little."

"well it certainly worked on me." Martin said breathlessly.

"See this is what I'm talking about!" Jon said eagerly. He seemed annoyingly calm and just excited to be validated.

"There is something wrong." Jon insisted. "It must be from the bullet in your leg, it seems to be radiated from the wound."

"What bullet?" Basira asked sharply.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Melanie raged at him.

Jon shrunk back from her anger a bit. He blinked rapidly, unfocused, his eyes flashed green.

"You have a bullet in your leg...I think...I think it's poisoning you." He told her.

Melanie slapped him hard across the face. Jon backed away from her, stunned.

Everyone in the room looked stunned, even Melanie.

"Stay away from me." She hissed at Jon, then turned and fled from the room.


	16. Chapter 16

Jon had little success in convincing Melanie to let him help her. She was so irrationally angry with him that any attempt to approach her was met with anger and violence. 

Basira was all for drugging Melanie and cutting the bullet out when she was asleep.

"That seems a little invasive..." Martin argued.

"You're sure it's there? Your freaky powers aren't all that reliable." Basira asked Jon, blunt as always.

"Yes." Jon snapped irritably. "I'm sure, she was shot by a ghost in India, the bullet didn't show up on any scans but it is there." 

"And it's poisoning her?" Basira confirmed.

"Yes." Jon nodded firmly. "It's...contributing to the anger and violence."

"Well seems like we should do whatever it takes then." Basira reasoned.

Martin refused though. Basira was a means justifies then ends kind of person, he saw where she was coming from but still thought it would be a better option to try and reason with Melanie. He didn't think she would forgive them if they did this behind her back and was sure she could be persuaded. 

But any attempts to reason with her went badly. She could barely handle being near Jon without flying into a rage. Martin made her irritated and snappy. And Basira's lack of overall tact and not so subtle implication that if she didn't play ball the bullet would be taken against her will made Melanie skittish and paranoid.

Martin suggested they wait a while, Melanie was pretty on edge after the attack and if they let her calm down she and see they were respecting her wishes she may be more reasonable.

But Jon being Jon didn't let it go. 

He continued to seek Melanie out and try and reason with her. He found statements by people who seemed to have been taken by the same force of anger and violence as she was falling to. He cornered her with them in the offices one morning.

"I told you stay away from me." She hissed at him, instantly furious when she saw him approaching her. 

"I know, I know but you need to see these..." He began to argue.

"If you want me to read something you can leave it on my desk when I am not around. I don't want to see you." She told him stiffly.

"Why not?" He asked her irritably. "Know we never got on that well socially but I thought we at least worked pretty well together."

"Oh you mean before we found out you were a monster that feeds on people's nightmares?" Melanie asked him, caustically sarcastic.

"That isn't fair." Jon scowled. "You seem pretty chummy with Helen for someone who is so against monsters."

It was true. Melanie had struck up somewhat of a friendship with Helen, who was often hanging around the archives since the flesh attack. 

" _Helen_ only attacks bad people." Melanie growled at him, angry he was still speaking with her when she had made it clear she didn't want to.

"Oh?" Jon asked raising an eyebrow questioningly. "She tell you that did she?"

"Oh fuck off already." Melanie fumed at him.

"You can hate me all you want but it doesn't change the fact..." Jon began haughtily, but Melanie turned away from him and began to storm away.

"Melanie come back here, we need to address this." Jon scurried after her.

He reached out to her with his left hand, his right hand still clutching the pile of folders. She spun around her eyes ablaze with feral anger, Jon thought she was just going to slap his hand away but she didn't.

Melanie was so angry all the time, she felt like she wasn't safe anywhere. She did not feel safe at home after those creatures had attacked the institute. She didn't feel safe at work, at any moment her colleges might jump of her and try to do some kind of back alley surgery on her. She was so tense and stressed, ready to snap, and Jon was always there. Like a continuous irritant, like an ingrown eyelash every time she blinked. She tried to get away but he was coming after her, she saw him reach for her and something in her just snapped. She had produced a straight razor from nowhere and sliced haphazardly at the hand approaching her. 

The razor sliced through Jon's outstretched arm, easily cutting through his shirt sleeve and deep into his flesh. It cut diagonally from his wrist bone to just above the crease of his elbow. It happened in less than a second and the cut was so clean it took a moment for the pain to even kick in. 

Blood immediately began to spurt from the wound and for a beat Jon just stood there looking at his bleeding arm puzzled by how it had occurred.

Melanie dropped the razor and stepped back from him horrified. 

"I...you shouldn't have pushed me..." She muttered, sounding dazed.

Martin and Basira had already been making there way to the offices when they heard Jon and Melanie arguing. They arrived just in time to see Melanie dropping the razor.

"Jon!" Martin cried and ran over to him. 

"I don't..." Jon said, swaying woozily as he was loosing blood so quickly, every beat of his heart pumping blood in a grisly arc across the scattered folders he had dropped.

Thinking fast Martin ripped off the cardigan he was wearing and using the sleeve wrapped it tightly around the spurting wound, pulling it tight and holding it in place.

"I'm calling an ambulance." Basira told them, already dialing.

"Come on." Martin told Jon, helping to support him and ushering him out of the archives. 

"We'll meet them outside." 

Jon was only able to take a few shaky steps before his knees buckled. Martin was prepared though and scooped him up as he fell. Terrified by the volume of blood welling up through the fabric of his cardigan. He hurried out to meet the ambulance.

Back in the archives Basira and Melanie stood across from each other. Basira sighed, taking in the scattered, blood splattered folders.

"Melanie..." She began.

Melanie looked shocked, her face was pale and pupils blown. She was trembling visibly.

"I...he...he wouldn't leave it alone..." She stammered.

"Yeah..." Basira agreed. "He's like that." 

"I didn't mean to." Melanie told Basira looking suddenly desperate, like she wanted to bolt.

"It was just...I'm so on edge with everything and he..."

"I get it." Basira told her, like she was speaking to a spooked animal. "But you can't go on like this Melanie, you know that right?"

Melanie shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. She turned and ran away through the archives and into the tunnels below. 

Sitting with her back to the wall Melanie quietly panicked for few moments. Basira was going to force her into some kind of traumatic hack job. Who would even do it now? Jon was the only one who had been able to see the bullet. She hadn't wanted him to to it. She didn't trust him, but now...but now...he was injured, he couldn't do it for a while at least. Maybe ever? The amount of blood he had lost puddled on the archives floor burned behind Melanie's reinters. What would happen now? What was the alternative? Basira just hacked at her randomly until she found the right spot?

No, no surely Jon would be alright, he was always alright, well maybe not alright but certainly alive.

She thought guiltily of Jon's confused face as as he looked at his bleeding arm. Despite her many threats, throwing a mug at him, and almost stabbing him earlier, he really hadn't expected her to actually hurt him. 

God, Martin was going to be insufferable after this. Melanie thought ruefully. 

Worse than that Georgie was going to hear what she did. Georgie and Jon's relationship had been very strained since she found out her dreams of him were, in a way, real. But she wasn't mad at him, she was more worried that he should be trying harder to get away from the institute, and disappointed that instead he seemed to be burying himself deeper into it. But no matter how annoyed she was with Jon she clearly still cared about him a lot, and she would be horrified that Melanie had hurt him.

Even if she could convince Georgie that it had been an accident, Melanie worried about what Georgie would think of her refusal to remove the bullet and her new ability to summon blades from thin air. If Georgie was alarmed at Jon's supernatural abilities she definitely wouldn't be a fan of Melanie's.

And then there was Tim...she hadn't seen him in weeks but they had become really close at one point, she was loth to think how he would feel about her stabbing Jon. 

The creaking of a door hinge startled her from her thoughts.

"Helen?" She asked.

"I don't think so...." The voice that answered was not Helen's, it was odd and distorted, changing in pitch and echoing strangely.

"But it hard to keep track of what or who I am sometimes.." The voice continued and ended with a discordant laugh.

"Michael? We er...we haven't met." Melanie stammered standing up, feeling a blade in her palm without thinking about it.

"I wanted to kill him too." Michael told her, musing. It was difficult to see them in the dim light, they looked more like an assortment of random spinning shapes, roughly the size of a man. 

"Jon?" She asked.

"Hmmm, yes, the Archivist. I didn't want the eye to win....I still don't but..." The distortion sighed sadly.

"I don't think I want him to die any more." 

"It was an accident." Melanie argued, wondering if she was being threatened by the creature, if Helen would intervene if she was attacked.

"I don't really want to kill him." She told Michael firmly.

"That mark from the slaughter will keep driving you to attack at random." Michael informed her humming thoughtfully.

"I can take it out for you." The distortion offered.

Melanie perked up at this.

"You can see it?" She asked. she was hoping this meant Helen would be able to see it too. She trusted Helen and if she was going to be forced into backyard surgery she would prefer it was someone she trusted. 

"Oh I see a lot of things." Michael stepped closer and she could see their eyes, the spinning, dizzying iris and impossibly depth of the pupil.

Melanie felt her head spin and was so focused on the grin that stretched too far and had too many teeth she didn't notice the sharp pang of pain until Michael was already retracting their long sharp fingers, coated in her blood and clasping a bullet in their tips. 

Acting automatically she slashed at Michael with a knife she didn't remember conjuring. But the distortion easily avoided her, laughing as it disappeared back inside the impossible yellow door.

Martin had seen Jon injured before, had seen him feverish and weak and desperate. But seeing him, standing there so confused with his life blood rapidly draining away was the worst moment of Martin's life. The ambulance hadn't taken long to her there, but in those few moments, holding Jon and feeling the warmth of his blood welling up though the fabric, while Jon got weaker and more distant. It was worse than the worms, it was worse than the flesh attack. It had utterly terrified Martin.

Martin didn't understand how Melanie could have done something like that. They had never been very close, but they had formed an awkward friendship recently around their shared worry for Tim. 

Martin knew Melanie had never particularly liked Jon, but he remembered all the hours she had put into trying to find him when he was kidnaped by the circus, when he was missing, lost inside the distortion. They had enough enemies, it was horrifying to have to worry about friends attacking as well. For this reason Martin was particularly rattled by this injury. 

Melanie had cut through Jon's ulnar artery and he lost a dangerous amount of blood. Jon had been so pale and weak afterwards. All doped up on painkillers and worried he would accidently compel someone he had been a complete pain in the arse from the moment he was stitched up and stable.

"Martin..."Jon slurred, trying uncoordinatedly to pull the drip from his arm but grabbing several inches to the right of it.

"We have to get out of here...I...someone might have a statement...can' risk it..." He slurred. "Don' wanna..." he broke off to cough.

"Dnn wan...haunt ny'more dreams..." he muttered, his eyes straining to stay open.

The nurses were all giving him side eye, muttering about psych consults. 

When the hospital staff found out the accident had happened at the Magnus archives they let Jon go without question. Martin felt equal parts relieved and furious. It didn't seem right that they should get to just wash their hands of it all.

The pain killers made Jon loopy and difficult. He refused to blame Melanie, wanted to go back to the archives to tell her he wasn't mad at her. He wanted to go and find Tim and ask why he was being such an idiot. He wanted to go visit the Admiral. 

"Maybe tomorrow." Martin told Jon tiredly, wresting him into bed with great difficulty. Not because it required any amount of strength but because Jon was so frail and injured and Martin was trying to be as gentle with him as possible. 

Tim also had difficult time dealing with the attack. He had just gotten over being furious about the flesh attacking his friends when a major part of his reasoning for aligning himself with Peter Lukas was to protect them from supernatural attack.

"They were fine." Peter had assured him.

"I would have intervened if necessary, the situation was always under control."

And it had been easy enough to believe the man considering no one had been injured. But this time...

Tim only found out about it because he overheard a conversation the breakroom. 

The archives had their own breakroom, possibly because there was three stories between the archives and the nearest communal breakroom, or possibly because the rest of the institute didn't want to get involved in the weird shit that went on in the archives.

But there was a communal breakroom for several departments on the floor of Tim's office. In a way it gave him more anonymity. People came and went, some people chatted and bonded, but it was very easy to keep to yourself.

"Did you hear?" A bland middle aged mad asked an equally bland middle aged woman as they stirred their mediocre tea. 

"Had an ambulance come cart off an archive employee yesterday." The man chuckled. 

"Been a few months since anything nutty happened there." The woman smirked.

"Know which one it was?"

"Do you remember that scrawny little guy from research?" The man continued. "Talked like he thought he was a lord, but looked like he hadn't slept or combed his hair hair in a week?"

"Yes." The woman agreed, with the scorn in her tone of someone who had definitely met and disliked Jon.

"Well, you know Catherine, from accounts? she said she saw a horrible scene yesterday, the dumpy, red-haired guy who used to work in the library, came running out of the archives, carrying that scrawny guy from research, and he was dripping blood everywhere! Bleeding like a stuck pig! So Ginger carries him out to meet the ambulance, left a trail of blood all through reception." The man told his captive audience, with a flourish. Clearly please to have such interesting gossip.

"Goodness, I wonder what happened?" the woman remarked.

"Doesn't bare thinking about..." The man said. "The things they get up to in those archives..."

Tim missed the rest of their gossip because he stormed out of the breakroom and off to Peter Lukas's office to demand some answers.

The next day Martin and Jon did not show up to work. Martin called and said that Jon was alright, he had lost a lot of blood and needed twenty stitches but would recover and just needed a few days to rest. 

Melanie also needed time to recover. Without the poisoning influence of the bullet pumping anger through her blood she was just filled with anxiety and depression. Georgie wasn't speaking with her, she had been hurt and disappointed that Melanie hadn't told her the extent that the supernatural was taking her over, and she obviously she was upset that Jon had been hurt. Melanie understood and felt horribly guilty.

Melanie was also having to face the uncomfortable prospect of feeling empathy with Jon. She understood now what it felt like to be judged for having supernatural forces take over your actions. She didn't like that she had to not only feel guilty for hurting Jon, but also for potentially making him feel as bad about himself as she felt now.

She had been so consistently unpleasant to Jon over the last few weeks that Melanie was completely taken by surprise when Jon returned to work and was nothing but understanding and forgiving.

"Melanie I'm so glad you were able to the bullet out!" He exclaimed happily when he saw her, clearly relieved. 

She had told Basira about Michael removing the bullet, but she may not have completely believed it. She was relieve to get confirmation.

"Yeah, it's gone." Melanie told him.

"I..." She struggled with how to explain herself, despite everything seh wanted to be defensive, insist that she hadn't wanted it to happen, that now that the bullet was gone she realized how much it had clouded her thoughts, affected her actions but that surly Jon should have realised, with his knowledge powers and all, he should have known not to push her like that, especially so soon after the flesh attacked. She wasn't really the sort of person that would hurt someone like she had hurt him.

But Jon just seemed so happy the bullet was gone, so relieved he didn't have to remove it, so glad she wasn't in danger anymore. 

Something in Melanie seemed to break and she started crying in big wrenching sobs. 

"I'm so sorry Jon." She told him. "I can't believe I did that to you..."

Jon rushed forward and gathered her up in an awkward bony hug.

"It's alright." He told her.

"It wasn't you...I...I know what it's like...not what you went through exactly...but, I understand." He said soothingly.

"No," Melanie told him, crying brokenly.

"Yes, the bullet was bad, right, but it didn’t _make_ me angry. Anger is… Anger’s been all I’ve had for a very long time. Years. Maybe since… oh, I, I don’t know. But everything I’ve done, everything I pushed for was because I was angry. Angry at being passed over, being disrespected, ignored. That sort of anger, it - it _powers_ you. Right up until it slips out and hurts someone. I **hurt** someone. I hurt you, but I had this thing that takes all that rage, and it holds it, tells me it’s right, that it’s **me**. It didn’t stay in my leg because of some ghostly master plan. It _stayed_ because I wanted it."

"Shit." Jon said in a commiserating sort of way still patting her shoulder awkwardly.

Melanie snorted.

"It's ok." he told her.

"I... I know it isn't as simple as good an evil." He told her sadly. "I know choice and decisions aren't so black and white either..." He trialed off shrugging. 

It didn't solve everything, but it did bring a watery smile to Melanie's face. Jon awkwardly trying to have a heart to heart was something she never thought she would find touching, but these were strange times after all.


	17. Chapter 17

Martin was very angry at Melanie. So Jon was surprised to see them laughing together in the breakroom the afternoon he returned to work. They were looking at Martin's phone and giggling at some video he was playing. As Jon approached he realized it was a video of him, loopy on painkiller demanding to visit the Admiral. 

"Jon it's 10 o'clock at night." Martin's tired voice explained, trying to gently wrestle Jon back into bed. 

"But I want cat hugs." Jon complained, he evaded Martin's grasp with clumsy gymnastics but then only managed a few steps and ran into the wall.

Melanie howled with laughter.

"When did you even take this?" Jon asked looking disgruntled, but a tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. it was nice to see Melanie and Martin bonding, even if it was at his expense.

Oh the video Martin continued to carefully maneuver an uncoordinated but determined Jon.

"Hey, come on, Georgie isn't exactly happy with you right now, she not going to like you showing up in the middle of the night, looking like a victim in a slasher movie and demanding cat hugs." Martin in the video sighed as he helped Jon back onto the bed.

"He's my cat son. I have rights." Jon slurred, but collapsed on the mattress and seemed to instantly fall asleep.

Melanie's face fell.

"Georgie isn't speaking to me either..." She said sadly.

"She'll come around, she probably just needs time." Jon told her sympathetically.

"Yeah, I'm trying to give her some space you know? " Melanie said sadly.

"Yes, me as well." Jon said equally sadly.

"Are you sure she wants space?" Martin asked. 

"She has every reason to." Jon said, Melanie nodded in agreement which was probably the first time she had ever agreed with Jonathan Sims.

"She's better off without all this in her life." Melanie said bitterly, gesturing vaguely around the archives. 

"You know what, no." Martin told them.

"No? No what?" Melanie asked.

I don't think she does need space, I think she needs to see the both of you and get a proper explanation of what happened." Martin told them. 

"She's worried and she doesn't understand what is happening to the two of you or how to help you." And as for being better off not involved, I think Georgie has made it pretty clear that is her choice."

Melanie and Jon were both stubborn, so it took a few rounds of badgering to convince them but eventually they agreed to go and visit Georgie. 

She looked surprised to see the three of them on her doorstep but invited them in quietly.

Melanie and Jon both went to sit at the same place so they could be next to the Admiral, who was curled up on the couch, then awkwardly both tried to offer the seat to each other. Martin rolled his eyes, and sat next to Georgie.

"Sorry to burst in on you like this but I thought we should all talk. Clear the air." Martin told her.

Georgie was watching Jon and Melanie settle with the Admiral between the two of them so they could share him. They both cowered on the couch looking like guilty schoolchildren.

Georgie sighed and nodded to Martin.

"Yes, I think that is a good idea."

Jon cleared his throat awkwardly.

"OK so to start with I want to apologize to you Georgie...for..er...for the dreams." He told her awkwardly but sincerely.

Georgie looked at him sadly.

"Can you control it?" She asked him.

"No...I suppose I could try and make sure I don't sleep at the same time as you..." He told her miserably.

"And you didn't know it was happening until Basira told you?" Georgie confirmed.

"No, I swear, I never would have let you tell me your story if I knew." Jon told her, almost pleadingly.

"I believe you." She told him, but she still didn't seem happy.

"I'm sorry too." Melanie told her.

"I'm sorry I let things get so bad that I lashed out and hurt Jon."

"It wasn't really Melanie's fault." Jon told Georgie quickly. "She got roped into all this without knowing what it was, and the violence was from... well she had a bullet lodged in her leg, from when that ghost shot her in India, that wasn't... it wasn't her fault."

Melanie shot Jon a look that was caught between annoyed he was speaking for her and grateful he was defending her, then went back to looking firmly at the admiral so she didn't have to meet Georgie's eyes.

"And I'm alright, just another scar for the collection...." 

Jon trailed off, Melanie kept her eyes pinned on the Admiral, refusing to meet Jon's eyes now too.

Georgie sighed.

"I'm glad you were able to stop...whatever was happening to you." She told Melanie.

"But I'm not sure you're out of the woods yet. You need to get away from the institute, you all do." She told them emphatically.

"I want to leave." Melanie told her miserably.

"I'd do anything to get away...you have to know that." She said pleadingly.

"You know we can't leave..." Jon spluttered indignantly.

"I know you get ill if you are away for too long but that seems to be the extent you've looked into it." Georgie told him. "For all the time you spend researching other supernatural things, if you focused a bit more on your own situation maybe you'd be free now." 

"And JOn, I believe you that you aren't doing... whatever that thing with the dreams is...on purpose, but what are you doing to try and stop it? What's your version of the ghost bullet?"

"I..." Jon began but then just stammered for a moment, unable to put together a sentence.

Even Martin was a little put out by this.

"Georgie that's a little unfair, we have been trying to find out what's happening with Jon but there are so many things that keep competing for our attention, you know like, Jon being kidnapped, and Daisy going missing, and eldritch fear god's enacting terrifying rituals. It's not like we are pissing about for fun, we're researching things that could...:"

"End the world as we know it?" Georgie interrupted him. "Yeah I know that's what your creepy boss told you but honestly, it doesn't make sense."

"I thought you believed us." Martin said, sounding hurt.

"I do!" Georgie told him earnestly.

"I believe you are trapped by supernatural forces, I believe in the monsters. I believe yo are all in danger. But the rituals ending the world? If that is possible why is one roomful of completely unprepared people the only ones in charge of stopping it? And if that's the case haven't they done it already? Why haven't they already won?"

Jon, Martin and Melanie exchanged uncomfortable looks. 

"Well, it seems that Gertrude Robinson stopped a lot of them..." Melanie hedged.

"All the more reason to learn more about them." Jon argued at the same time

"We can't just risk the whole world. You've seen what these things can do." Martin said in agreement.

"Hmm interesting." Georgie said thoughtfully.

"Melanie you seem to think one competent and driven person could somehow overcome all this, Martin thinks, who cares about me, I'm not as important as the whole world. And Jon, of course, needs to know more about it."

They all frowned at her, Martin looking sad, Melanie looking thoughtful and Jon looking annoyed.

"What's your point?" Jon scowled.

"My point is it seems that the reason's you have all found not to question your connection to the institute are more aligned with who you and what drives you than a real, cohesive reason."

Jon scoffed.

"We are trying to leave the institute but it isn't as easy as you seem to think, and I'm sorry if the rituals seem like a more real and pressing danger to us than to you but I honestly don't understand what you want from me? What you expect me to do?" Jon said bitterly, stroking the Admiral with regret in his heart, knowing he probably wouldn't be invited back ever again.

Georgie didn't get angry at Jon's pissy tone. She just nodded.

"I expect you to try as hard as you can to get away from the institute. I expect you to at least not do it's bidding, whatever that is, however important it seems, that place is evil, and if you can't see that, well, I don't know what to tell you."

Jon, Martin and Melanie left after that.

"I'm sorry." Martin told Jon and Melanie.

"I really thought we could just work it out if we talked about it." 

"No, I'm glad we did." Jon told him. "Otherwise I would always be wondering what she thought of me. It was actually better than I had guessed."

"I'm glad to." Melanie told him. "I think...I think I agree with her..." She said thoughtfully.

"Really? " Martin asked her. "Surely you don't think we are doing all this for nothing?"

"I don't think that's what she's saying..." Melanie said. "I think she's right about the institute, that it's evil, that we shouldn't do what it wants."

So from that day onwards Melanie refused to do any work for the institute. She still had to go in to work or she would get ill. But she refuse to do any research that didn't hinge on leaving the institute. 

Things were not going smoothly for Tim either. Tim wasn't able to get answers from Peter Lukas straight away. The man was difficult to pin down and tended to only be available when he wanted answers, not the other way around. 

Back when Jon was still missing in the distortion, Tim had seen Lukas obviously trying to recruit Martin to some kind of sinister cause. And Martin, grieving for Jon, had seemed so horribly vulnerable. Tim had marched up to Peter Lukas's office and volunteered himself instead.

"Look I don't know what your creepy plan is, I don't care, just leave Martin alone, and if there is a way to kill Elias Burchard along the way I am definitely on board." Tim had told his new boss curtly.

Peter Lukas smiled thinly.

"Well, as it happens, you are in luck." He had said.

Finding out what the plan actually was had been like pulling teeth. Reveling any sort of exposition was very uncomfortable for Peter since he hated talking. So he had Simon Fairchild do the explaining instead. 

Simon Fairchild just showed up unannounced one day. He irritated Tim by being infuriatingly vague and cheerful, he rambled on a lot about analogies and symbolism, and the vastness of time and space, and human irrelevance. It was very frustrating. But Simon did explain quite a lot about the fear entities and Robert Smirk's 14 fears and, as divulged as much as he himself understood about how the entities worked. 

This was all very interesting to Tim, although the explanation was somewhat confusing and consisted mostly of more analogies. It was a bit galling to think that all with all the suffering that went into the rituals no one even knew what they were doing them for exactly.

But then Simon explained that Peter Lukas was concerned that a 15th entity was emerging, The Extinction, And this was the main point. 

"So Peter Lukas wants to stop the Extinction?" Tim asked, a bit incredulous. " I mean, why? He doesn't seem like the sort to care about mass human suffering." Tim mused.

"Oh no of _course_ he's not!" Simon had agreed almost gleefully.

"Peter is concerned that the new entity will upset the balance that we all have an awful lot invested in. And he’s not at all certain the world as we understand it will come out the other side." 

"And why does he need me? What am I supposed to do about all this?" Tim asked.

"Well, to be honest I'm a bit hazy on the details, but from what I gathered Peter has some sort of artifact, or ritual maybe, that will allow him to use the institute to see what is actually happening with the Extinction. But he needs someone aligned with the beholding to use it." Simon explained.

"Why not ask Elias if they are such good pals?" Tim asked suspiciously.

"Oh ho that _is_ funny." Simon chortled. 

"Oh you're serious." He noticed after a beat.

"Elias would never allow it I'm afraid, it will need to be someone who is also aligned to another entity as well, for them to be strong enough to wrench the power away from the eye."

Tim nodded thoughtfully. 

"Peter did kind of imply I'd get to kill Elias if I help him." Tim admitted.

"You don't say? Now that is _interesting_." Simon trilled, seeming very entertained by the possibility.

"The other entity I align with, does it have to be the Lonely?" Tim asked, a little hopefully, he hated being lonely.

"Hmmm well I suppose so, it's Peter who has the wager with Elias you see." Simon told him, somewhat sympathetically.

"What wager?" Tim asked. 

"I don't know all the terms, but I do know that the two of them have some kind of bet going on." Simon told him jovially.

"And if _Peter_ wins he gets to try to use the institute to see what the Extinction is up to, at least that's the gist of it." Simon said with a flip of his hand.

"what does Elias get if he wins?" Tim asked.

"You know I'm not sure." Simon Fairchild told Tim cheerfully.

"But it must be something _very_ important to him, considering it sounds as though he is quite literally betting his life on it."

Tim had left their meeting full of trepidation, but also a little hope. It did seem that for all his creepy vagueness Peter Lukas was telling the truth.

But after the Flesh attack, then Jon getting injured Tim was furious with Peter. Tim had been very clear that his cooperation hinged on his friends being protected from other entities. If Jon had been injured this clearly wasn't happening.

Eventually, after some mild stalking Tim was able to surprise Peter on his way out of the office and demand some answers.

"What the _hell_ Peter!" Tim snapped at his boss.

"I heard Jon was attacked by some entity. Where were you? You are supposed to protect him."

"Yes not much I could have done to prevent that considering it was another archive employee who attacked the archivist." Peter told Tim, his voice taking on a gratingly smug tone.

"What? Who?" Tim snapped, but he already knew, out of all the archive staff there was only one he could imagine stabbing Jon.

"Melanie King. I can have her dealt with..." Peter began.

"No!" Tim snapped angrily.

Peter shrugged.

"Have it your way." He said easily. "At any rate things seemed to have calmed down, the two of them seem positively chummy now so you needn't worry."

Tim gave him a tired, withering look.

"Great." He sighed, scrubbing at his face hard with the heels of his hands.

Peter's phone rang and he actually answered it.

"Well that is unnerving timing." Peter told Tim when he had hung up.

Tim gave him a nervously questioning look.

"That was Rosie in reception, se has just told me a large cockney gentleman just waltzed in holding a coffin. Sounds a bit like one of the ones who abducted your archivist that time... "

Tim gasped and panicked uselessly.

"Don't worry." Peter told him.

"I'll go sort it out, wouldn't want you to think I'm shirking my end of the deal."

In the archives Jon and Basira were dealing with Breekon, Melanie and Martin where thankfully away, Martin had gone with Melanie to help her find a therapist.

"Are you here for revenge?" Jon asked the creature. As he asked static built in air.

 _"_ Yeah." Breekon huffed. " Just like when we.. when _I_ fed the copper to the pit."

Basira hissed at him incensed.

"Easy, Basira." Jon told her. "What pit?" He asked Breekon.

"In here." He said knocking twice on the coffin he was holding.

"Realized I’m not...tied...to it anymore. Not on my own. Thought you could have it. Pay your respects like."

"Daisy’s in there?" Basira aske

"That’s its name? Then sure, ‘t’s in there, whatever’s _left_. Find out if you like." Breekon mocked.

"Would you _please_ drop that _ridiculous_ voice?" Jon snapped at him.

"Apologies. Is preferred like so?" Breekon asked in a Russian accent.

 _"Christ,_ that’s worse." Jon sighed.

Breekon just laughed at him.

"What do you want. Why are you here?" Basira asked, but Breekon ignored her, just staring at her in silent mockery.

Jon sighed

 _"Why_ are you _here?"_ He asked with rising static.

"Dunno." The creature admitted. "Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just deliver something. So here’s a coffin. In case you want...to join your friend.."

"You don't like being on your own do you?" A new voice asked, a new kind of static began to fill the air, but not soft and dispersed like Jon's, it was shill and squealed like nails on a chalkboard.

"Who are you?" Breekon asked, sounding annoyed and a little frightened.

"You don't feel quite whole when your alone do you, not quite real?" Peter Lukas asked.

"‘S not right, on my own. Not right. No point in doing it on my own. Don’t know what happens now." Breekon admitted, he looked pale, washed out.

"There is no point." Lukas agreed. 

"What are you doing?" Jon asked surprised. "Who _are_ you?"

Lukas scowled at the question.

"Peter Lukas, acting head of the Magnus Institute." He answered.

"What did you do with Breekon?" Jon asked. In the moment of distraction that Peter Lukas answered Jon's question the delivery man had vanished.

"Oh don't worry about him." Peter assured Jon. "He's right where he belongs." 

Basira put a hand on Jon's shoulder, trying to signal him to shut up. She knew how dangerous Peter Lukas was and didn't want Jon disappearing with Breekon.

"Anyway, nice to finally meet you but I must be off." Lukas told the two of them and walked swiftly away. leaving them with the silent, ominous coffin.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not actually a chapter just wanted to let you guys know I am taking a break from posting

Hey guys, I'm not going to be updating for a while. I post other stories on tumblr sometimes and recently I had such a negative response to something I posted, it really shattered my confidence in my writing. 

Writing is usually a coping mechanism for me but now when I try it just makes me doubt myself and feel worse. I'm hoping if I have break for a few months this will go away. But if not, I will post a brief summary of how I had intended the fic to go, so I don't leave you all hanging. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone being so kind and supportive for me talking a break :)  
> I am feeling a lot better. This chapter is dealing with the fall out of the coffin showing up at the archives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I had a break I had actually written an entire chapter about Jon going into the buried to rescue Daisy. But when I reread it just felt...wrong.  
> In cannon Jon goes into the buried because he has such low self worth he doesn't think he deserves to live. Tim is dead, Martin is ignoring him, Melanie is outright violent towards him, even Basira doesn't seem to trust him and is pretty cold and unfriendly. So he thinks his life isn't worth much and that he is just a monster, Georgie straight up tells him it would be better if he died.  
> But in my AU he has Martin, Tim is alive, he has made friends with Melanie. I originally had Basira asking him to go and save Daisy but I don't think she would, even when she didn't trust him and thought he might be a monster she didn't wish that upon him.  
> So I had to rethink it. Daisy will just have to wait a bit longer.

"Don't even think about it." Basira snapped, frowning at Jon as she caught him inching towards the coffin with a look of rapt fascination in his eyes. 

Jon couldn't seem to help himself. He had agreed he should leave it alone. That obviously he shouldn't open it. Shouldn't remove the chain, shouldn't even touch it probably. but he seemed drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

"I'm not going to touch it..." Jon began, sounding guilty.

"Good. No need to go near it then is there?" Basira grit out at him, this was not the first time that day she had shoed him away from the coffin and she was growing annoyed.

Basira watched him scuttle away giving her a reproachful look over his shoulder that made her grind her teeth.. 

Basira was not so sure how she felt about Jon. Their friendship had always been a bit odd, she had met him because she was investigating him for murder, so it hadn't been a great start. But despite herself she liked him, he was respectful and funny, in dry sarcastic way she apricated. And she had decided fairly early on that he wasn't a killer. If for no other reason than he didn't seem to have the stomach for it. And he was such a highly strung, twitchy , paranoid mess, surely if he was guilty he would have run. 

Even later, when he had begun to clearly display supernatural abilities, she had still been sure Jon wasn't a threat. After all his skillset included randomly knowing things that were only helpful to him personally _very_ occasionally, forcing people to tell the truth and translating foreign languages. It was hardly _monstrous_. 

_Except._...

Except there was the whole haunting peoples dreams thing. Which was frankly a bit unsettling, and, as Melanie pointed out, he had an uncanny knack for getting out of situations that most people would never survive. What to make of it? The fact that Jon always looked so scrawny and weak, like she could just pick him up and snap him in half, did not help her inner conflict since it made him both seem more harmless and more suspicious that he was so oddly resilient despite looking so useless.

She missed Daisy. She missed her strength. She missed having a person around she trusted implicitly. She missed having someone to confide in, someone to plan the next move with. They were in so much danger all the time. And there was so many terrible things she needed to fight. She wished she had her partner. Who else was supposed to help her find out when and where the next ritual might happen and put a stop to it? Melanie? She was currently having a nervous breakdown. Tim? He was apparently working for the enemy now. Martin? No explanation even needed on that one as far as she was concerned. And Jon? Sure he had some spooky knowledge powers, but frankly they weren't that useful a lot of the time and he had spent the greater part of the last four months either kidnapped or laid up with illness or injury. 

It was for this reason that Basira had begun meeting with Elias secretly to get information. She knew he was untrustworthy, but she also did believe that their goals could occasionally align and that she could tell when he was misleading her. And despite his many many flaws as a person and a source of information, he was a source of information, and she was sorely lacking in those. 

She met him in a fancy hotel room in secret a few days after the coffin was delivered.

They met in his room, not wanting anyone to see them together. Basira made it clear she had a gun, Elias made it clear he was unarmed and found her need for weapons absurd and a bit amusing.

"You should let Jon go into the coffin." Elias told her once she filled him in.

Basira narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Why? Won't that just kill him?" She asked.

Elias smirked.

"First of all, it's not possible to die in the coffin so definitely not."

Basira ground her teeth.

"Secondly..." Elias continued with false contemplation lifting his tine, as if he hadn't already planned what to say.

"I think Jon is strong enough to find his way back from the buried." 

"What is the buried?" Basira asked.

"Oh I forget, you are all so new to this." Elias mused.

At Basira's unimpressed look he quickly explained about Smirks theory of the fourteen fears.

Basira had more or less encountered or heard about all of them by this stage so it seemed simple enough to her. 

"So Daisy is trapped in the buried." Basira worried. It would be horrible for a person like Daisy, she was a person who was always in motion, always restless and driven. being trapped would be a particular torture. 

"And you are sure Jon will be able to get her out?" Basira pressed. 

"Yes, I am sure, but he will need an anchor." Elias said confidently.

"Meaning?" Basira asked.

"Something to help him latch on to, to find his way back, people who get out of a fear's domain usually do so because they have something they are very attached to that calls to them and helps them find their way." Elias explained.

"OK, like what?" Basira asked him.

"Well, the best thing is a family member, but Jon doesn't have any, in his case I'd recommend a part of his body." Elias said, looking way to calm for having just said something so disturbing.

"What?" Basira snapped.

"It could be a small thing, something he wouldn't miss, like a tooth, or a finger." Elias mused.

"There is no body part a person wouldn't miss." Basira told him bluntly.

"Nonsesne, people remove body parts all the time for much less important reasons." Elias smirked.

"You need to look at the bigger picture here Detective. A tiny part of one person damaged, for an entire person restored." 

"I'm not a detective." Basira snapped at him.

Basira researched the buried and anchors as much as she could but she didn't tell Jon about it. She certainly didn't trust Elias enough to risk anyone else being trapped in the buried, not even Jon. 

Basira locked the coffin in a storage closet to avoid temptation. It seemed to draw people to it, _especially_ Jon. He was infuriating about it. Always giving her big, innocent puppy eyes and explaining that he just wanted to see if he could _Know_ anything about it if he was near it. And when puppy eyes didn't work he'd switch to pissy and indignant, but she would just cross her arms and stare him down. Jon would always slowly lose his nerve under Basira's steely gaze until he was stammering and fidgeting, then he would give up and skulk back to his office. 

But Jon wasn't the only problem. Frighteningly, people from all over the building would come staggering towards it in a daze. Anyone who fell asleep at their desk or decided to have a quick power nap in the library were liable to come sleepwalking towards the coffin. 

Jon suggested the put the keys of both the closet and the chains around the coffin in a bowl of water and freeze it in the breakroom fridge as a precaution, apparently a statement giver had survived the coffin using this trick. They'd had to thaw the freezer first because it was completely iced over and full of expired frozen food and abandoned bags of coffee grinds. 

Jon had become inexplicably sad at the sight of the coffee.

When she asked him why he just looked confused and more upset.

"I don't know, I feel like I should remember but I can't, I just feel a horrible sense of loss." He told her sadly.

Basira rolled her eyes and threw the coffee out. She didn't have time for riddles and confused, half expressed thoughts. 

The coffin was clearly a danger so Basira tried to ban anyone from sleeping in the archives. Jon and Martin seemed to be living together now so that was OK, and Tim was never around, but Melanie refused to be reasonable about it. 

Until recently Basira had got on well enough with Melanie. They had similar senses of humor and found they had enough in common to easily hold a conversation. They went out for drinks, they chatted in the breakroom, they worked well together. 

But Melanie had been growing increasingly erratic. It started with her attacks on Elias. The attacks never went well, or came even close to besting the man, but Melanie kept it up anyway. One day she had come back so pale and shaken, so utterly devastated she couldn't even explain what had happened she was sobbing so hard.

After that Melanie didn't try to harm Elias again but her mental health seamed to decline rapidly. She became withdrawn and paranoid. When Tim left she had sunk even further. Tim had been a huge source of support to her, the two had become friends. Then after the flesh attack she seemed positively unhinged. She stalked around like a feral animal that might lash out when startled. Basira knew she had undermined Melanie's trust in her by planning to drug her and remove the bullet without consent, but she felt vindicated in this decision when Melanie nearly killed Jon purely because he was annoying her. 

Now Melanie was less likely to attack other staff members, so that was an improvement. But she was still a hot mess. She cried a lot, she was sullen and depressed. She refused to do any work for the archives. And perhaps most annoyingly of all she refused to listen to reason about sleeping in the archives.

She claimed she didn't feel safe outside the institute.

"You have mainly been attacked in the institute." Basira pointed out.

"No, I was attacked twice outside the institute and twice inside." Melanie argued stubbornly.

"And if either of the attacks that happened inside the institute had happened anywhere else I'd probably be dead. Helen and Michael helped us the first time and that creepy guy who replaces Elias saved us the second time."

"You can hardly expect to rely on Peter Lukas to protect you." Jon told her hautily. 

"Well it's a damn sight more than anything I can rely on outside of the institute." Melanie snapped at him.

The two had become more friendly after Melanie stabbed Jon, Basira noticed, because, of course, why not? But they still bickered. Jon seemed completely unaware how arrogant and annoying he could come across, and Melanie still had a very short fuse. 

"It's not safe with the coffin." Basira told her firmly. "You will have to stay somewhere else until we can find a way of deposing of it."

But Melanie refused to listen, and one day Basira arrived in the morning to find the closet open and the chain around the coffin unlocked. 

She tried to call Melanie but the device buzzed shrilly on Melanie's desk, no help at all. 

Martin and Jon arrived just as she was starting to feel a deep sinking dread. They looked all over the archives but couldn't find her. They did, however, find the freezer in the break room left open and the half melted bowl of ice shattered on the floor.

The worst part was calling Georgie. Jon hadn't wanted to pull her back into the archives but had agreed they had to rule out the possibility Melanie was with Georgie, that Melanie wasn't the one who had unlocked the coffin after all. Georgie had show up in person less than half an hour later.

"What the fuck?" She asked shrilly.

"How could this even be allowed to happen?" She asked furiously, her eyes red and bloodshot, her face full of despair.

"We all warned her." Basira said defensively. 

Georgie's anger had been focused on Jon, which was logical because he was technically in charge. But Jon was hardly _really_ in charge. He let everyone do whatever they wanted. He also seemed to do whatever he felt like on the day and acted more like a cat that had wandered in off the street than the head of a department. If anyone was really organizing anything it was Basira, and she felt judged. 

She didn't like feeling judged, she had tried after all, she had taken reasonable precautions, it wasn't her fault Melanie had behaved foolishly.

"She refused to not stay here, insisted she wasn't safe anywhere else." Basira shrugged. "We tried, she was unreasonable."

Georgie had been glaring poisonously at Basira but then suddenly burst into tear.

"It's my fault." Georgie sobbed. "I pushed her away.

"No, don't say that." Martin gathered Georgie into a hug.

Jon was watching the two with those big tragic eyes and Basira just knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth. She shot him a glare that she hoped conveyed. "Don't even think about it you _moron_." Without having to open her mouth, but he ignored her.

"I'll get her back." Jon told Georgie solemnly.

"What? How?" Georgie asked tersely.

Martin shook his head looking panicked.

"I'll go in and..." No Martin and Basira interrupted at the same time.

"...and lead her and Daisy out." Jon insisted.

"What makes you think you can get out?" Georgie asked him. 

"I just know things sometimes." Jon told her sheepishly, he looked ashamed to admit it to her. "I could use it to find the way."

"You don't know that will work." Martin argued.

"I can't leave them in there." Jon pleaded. "It's my fault they are in there."

"No it's not." Martin told him, a note of exasperation in his voice. " _Everything_ isn't your fault Jon."

But Jon had that look in his eyes, that sad resigned look of a person who had already accepted their fate. 

Martin took Georgie home.

"Don't let him do anything stupid while I'm gone." He ordered Basira as he left.

Basira sighed heavily, that was easier said then done.

She noticed Jon kept sending furtive glances at her desk.

"What?" She snapped at him.

"Do you...er...you have some research on the coffin and...on ways to..." He began nervously.

"I told you not to use your powers on me." Basira seethed.

"I didn't on purpose." Jon told her sulkily. "It just tells me things sometimes, I can't control it."

"Try harder." Basira told him angrily.

Jon just kept giving her the eyes.

She sighed heavily.

"This is not me agreeing that this is a good idea." She told him, pulling out the folder full of research she had compiled on the buried and anchors.

"But if you are going to be a pig headed idiot you should at least be informed I suppose." 

Jon greedily riffled through the folder, reading everything in it aloud to his tape recorder.

"Using part of my body as an anchor..." He mused when he was done. "Don't suppose I could just use a lock of hair? Or what about those folders I bled all over?"

Basira just glared at him and shrugged.

"I'm not an expert on which body parts make the best anchors." She told him blandly.

"Right...no of course not." he sighed. "Feels too flimsy, I think it has to be something solid."

Helen's door creaked open.

"If I could make a suggestion?" She asked peeking out.

"No." Jon scowled.

"Oh come on, I'm just trying to help." Helen pouted.

Jon glared at her but she ignored it.

"What you need is the Boneturner." She suggested brightly.

Jon seemed impressed with this suggestion.

"Yes, he could just reach in, grab a rib...job done!" He said happily.

"This is a terrible idea." Basira argued with the two of them.

"Why would he even help you? He might just rip you apart." She pointed out.

"I'm sure he's sick of being trapped in here, tormented by Michael." Helen said brightly.

"He'd do just about anything in exchange for being released."

"he shouldn't be released." Basira snapped.

"Oh Basira, use your imagination." Helen laughed. "We won't make any promises about _where_ he will be released. Could be anywhere..."

So Jon went back into the Spiral's hallways and returned about half an hour later, pale and groggy and clutching a thin white bone in one hand. He just managed to stumble a few steps out of the Helen's doorway and collapse as Martin returned.

"Jon!" Martin gasped rushing over to him. 

"You said you would let him do anything stupid." He accused Basira, cradling Jon to him and gently patting his cheek to try and bring him around.

"As if anyone could do that." Basira rolled her eyes.

Jon had expected it to hurt. He'd read that it would hurt. But he had still been a little shocked by how much it had actually hurt. It wasn't even just the pain, the sensation had been so horribly, viscerally unpleasant. Like pulling out a tooth. Then the pain kicked in as every nerve that had been connected to the missing bone throbbed in confusion, darkness crowded in from the edges of his vision and he barely had the strength to stagger out of the hallways.

He didn't loose consciousness exactly. Reality just became a mass of unfiltered and poorly interpreted sensory input for a few minute. There was pain, the hard smooth texture of the floor, pain, warm soft touch, pain and nausea, a gentle slap against his cheek, pain, angry sharp sounds, soft gentle sounds, pain, he struggled to open his eyes and saw dark shapes and bright jarring light, more pain, it seemed to have some kind of rhythm. Eventually he put it together.

_It hurts to breath_

After a few moments his brain began to piece everything into more of a cohesive story for him. He remembered where he was and what had happened. 

"Ss't done?" He slurred. Blinking groggily at Martin and Basira.

"You came out holding this." Basira shrugged, holding up a slender white bone. His rib, Jon thought of how tiny it had looked in Jared Hopworth's meaty hand, like a frigile chicken bone.

"What is that?" Martin asked. He had an endearing way of wrinkling his nose when he was confused, Jon thought distractedly, still feeling a little disconnected from the moment.

"It's...er...my rib." Jon told him.

Martin blinked at it several times. Then blanched, grimacing. 

"Your RIB?...How?...Why...?" He squeaked.

Basira explained about the anchors. Jon felt infinitely grateful. Talking was hard.

Martin looked washed out pale when she finished.

"Your really doing this aren't you." He said miserably.

Jon nodded, looking away, unable to deal with the pain he could see in Martin's face.

Martin got up and walked away. Jon wanted to call out to him, beg him not to be upset, but decided Martin had every right to be upset with him and if he didn't want to be around him right now that was only fair and no less than he deserved and...oh never mind he was coming back.

Martin returned quickly with a glass of water and some painkillers. He wordlessly helped Jon sit up so he could take them.

Sitting up was agony but Jon fought down any indication of pain with everything he had left. Once he'd swallowed the pills Martin helped ease him back onto the cot. Then left again. This time Jon didn't panic. Martin came back with an ice pack.

"Which side?" He asked.

"Umm..." Jon bit his lip nervously.

"Jon?"

"Both..." He admitted.

Martin raised a questioning eyebrow.

Jon sighed.

"I also wanted to know why Jared attacked us, but he didn't want to give the information up for free." He explained.

"So he took your other rib?" Martin grimaced. 

"That's disturbing. What did he want it for?" 

Jon shrugged and instantly regretted it as a bolt of pain shot through his chest.

"He didn't say, he didn't seem very happy with it though."

Martin didn't seem to know what to say to that. 

Martin made them both tea and Jon rested until the painkillers kicked in and the pain from his missing bones softened to a dull ache. 

"I suppose I better get this over with." Jon said, getting up gingerly.

Martin walked with him to the coffin. 

"Please don't do this." Martin said softly.

Jon began to explain himself again, to argue why he had to. But stopped. Martin knew all that. That's why he wasn't arguing, he knew why Jon was going into the coffin and that there was nothing he could say to change his mind. And he didn't want what might be their last conversation to be a fight.

"I...I'm sorry this will hurt you." Jon said instead.

Martin's composure broke. Tears welled up in his eyes. He gathered Jon in as gentle and careful a hug as he could manage.

"Promise you'll come back." He whispered.

"I promise." Jon whispered back earnestly, he nuzzled into Martin hair, wanting to keep it all of Martin's hugs fresh in his memory, the texture, the scent, the warmth, the feeling of being loved and cared for.

He felt hopeful though as he stepped into the coffin. He could feel his connection to the world outside like a strong, clear thread through the dark. He would find Melanie and Daisy and bring them back. It would redeem him to Basira and Georgie, it would make him worthy of Martin's love. He was sure of it.

Jon went to turn on his recorder but found it was already on, steeling himself against the fear of the crushing, close soil all around him, and the dark, and the pain in his chest, Jon made his way into the Buried. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the Buried I promise!!!! I feel like I have been dragging it out for ages. But the Buried seems like kind of a patient entity to me. This chapter deals mainly with what actually happened to Melanie.

Tim had been making a habit of sneaking in to the institute through the tunnels. It was better this way, he could avoid running into old friends from research and their hesitant, shallow concern. He could avoid their remarks on how pale and cold he looked, their inquiries after his health and happiness that he was more and more successful in convincing himself were insincere. It was irritating that his past cheerful, outgoing personality made the change in him so starkly obvious. Not like they actually cared, Tim told himself bitterly, they were probably just after gossip.

Tim had already been sneaking in through the tunnels a bit to avoid Jon when the archivist was at his most paranoid. Tim had found another hidden entrance to the tunnels in a basement on the opposite side of the institute to the archives that he could use to prevent the chances of running into an archive member. It was still a bit risky because he had to get up the stairs without passing anyone. But he had because good at being unnoticed, at slipping behind a door or around a corner out of sight. 

He had to be particularly careful to avoid Jon, who was still doggedly trying to ambush him. At first it had been ridiculously easy as Jon had a persistent cough that announced his movement like a bell on a cat. When the cough cleared up Tim had to be more vigilant. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Jon, it was quite the opposite. He missed Jon desperately. He had missed him for a long time. Tim had missed him when Jon was too much of a paranoid mess to be a friend, and then when Tim had been too much of a furious ball of anger to be a friend, he had still missed Jon. It may be his fault they were apart, Tim still missed him.

Then they'd had just over a week of being not quite themselves, but close enough for Tim to remember what it felt like, for it to really sting when it was all taken away again.

He missed Martin too of course. He had grown very fond of Martin, and Melanie more recently. But Jon he had known for years and Tim worried that actually speaking with him would undo all the work he'd put in to move towards the Lonely. Not to mention that the guy could just compel Tim to tell him everything that was going on, and that would likely ruin his plans. So Tim was avoiding Jon carefully. 

Tim was musing over these things as he made his way through the tunnels on his way in to work. It was quiet and dark in the tunnels. And cold, at least it was probably cold, Tim was always feeling a little cold these days so it was hard to tell for sure.

A soft scrambling noise broke his concentration and he stopped in his tracks, tense and listening carefully. He might have become familiar with the tunnels but he was still always very watchful in there. Always suspicious of any little noise. 

As he listened he could make out faint sounds in the otherwise silent, dark tunnels, a soft scuffing of hesitant feet, the trembling breath of a person trying not to cry. 

Tim considered his options, he could hurry out of the tunnels and ignore whoever was there, it didn't sound as though they were coming towards him, if anything they were moving away. But he wanted to know who was sneaking around down here and they didn't sound like much of a threat. The steps were quiet, light, the person, _providing it was a person_ , was much smaller than him. And to honest they kind of sounded like they needed help.

Tim though with a spark of annoyance, that if he were to hazard a guess he'd say it was Jon, sneaking around in the tunnels for his own reasons and probably lost. Certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Tim made his way along the tunnel, following the quiet steps. Suddenly they stopped with a sharp inhale of breath. Although Tim was moving as softly as he could he must have alerted them to his presence.

"Is someone there? The unknown person called out in a shrill voice, clearly trying to sound fierce and firm but their voice shook with fear and dread. 

It didn't matter though Tim recognized that voice right away.

"Melanie?" He asked puzzled.

"What are you doing down here?" He turned on his phone light, illuminating the tunnels faintly and reveling Melanie, looking frightened and exhausted, brushed with grime and covered in scratches and bruises. 

"Tim!" She cried in relief and threw herself at Tim grabbing him in a grateful hug. 

Tim almost recoiled, It had been so long since another person had touched him.

But Melanie was shaking, she had clearly been lost down here for some time from the looks of her and desperately needed the comfort. He hugged her back, it felt almost painful, his skin burned like he had stepped out of the ice cold rain into a scolding shower, but he ignored it pointedly and it faded into pleasant warmth.

"Please tell me you're not lost as well." Melanie mumbled exhaustedly into Tim's chest. 

"No, I know the way." He told her, already ushering her gently in the correct direction.

"What are you doing down here?" He asked. 

Melanie sighed shakily.

"You know those flesh creatures?... oh wait, you weren't there for that. Did you hear about the flesh creatures attacking?" She asked him.

"Yeah, I heard." He told her, anger flaring, fucking Peter Lucas, he was going to...

"You didn't check in after." Melanie said quietly, breaking his chain of thought. 

"I'm sorry." Tim told her. "It's not that I didn't want to. I just, I have to do something important, and to do it I need to be alone for awhile." Tim sighed. 

"Working with Peter Lukas though?" Melanie asked him nervously.

"He's a means to an ends." Tim told her.

"Are you sure about this Tim?" He could just make out Melanie's face in the dim light now that his phone light was focussed on the tunnel ahead, but Tim thought she looked scornful, judgmental.

"It just...it sounds like a really bad idea." She told him.

"Not sure you of all people should be judging my ideas." He said coldly.

Melanie stiffened.

"What?" She snapped. "I'm just telling you that working with that guy is stupid, you're just angry because you know I'm right."

"And _I'm_ just pointing out that you are not in a massively great position to be criticizing _my_ decisions." Tim told her loftily. 

" _Really_? Why don't you tell me what you actually mean!" Melanie snapped.

"Well...let's see, you went out actively looking for violent, aggressive ghosts alone, how'd that work out? Then you joined the archives against _everyone's_ advice, hmmm what else? Oh yeah you almost stabbed Jon to death right? Was that a great idea? A _aaaannd_ I have currently just found you wandering around lost inside the spooky, supernatural tunnels under the institute, I'm sure it was some great decision making that led to that..." 

Tim hummed, false contemplative.

"So no, sorry, not really feeling the life coach vibe."

Melanie remained furiously silent as they walked along. He could practically feel the bitter anger radiating off her.

"The tunnels thing isn't my fault." She grumbled eventually, sounding sadly defeated.

Tim sighed.

"Probably most of it isn't your fault." He conceded feeling guilty already. Why had he wanted to kick her when she was down? Maybe Melanie was right about working with Lukas, he didn't like what it was doing to him.

They came up out of the tunnels and into the archives. They found Martin, for some reason sitting sadly in front of an open storage closet. He had pulled an office chair over to it and was sitting there with a cup of tea and a note pad balanced on his lap, clutching something thin and white in his fist and staring morosely into the closet. When he heard them approaching he looked up at them, then with a gasp jumped up so suddenly he the teacup and notepad fell to the floor and became a mess broken ceramic shards and tea soaked paper.

Tim thought for a moment that Martin was shocked to see him but it was Melanie's name he cried out.

"You're here, you're...w-what happened?" He stammered to her.

"I was attacked by more of those flesh creatures last night." Melanie explained. 

Basira stepped into the room, having heard Martin's teacup smash.

She too looked stunned when she saw Melanie.

"Melanie, you're not... where have you been?" she gasped.

Melanie looked affronted.

"I was running for my life." She snapped.

"Those flesh creatures showed up last night. Everyone else had left. I thought...I thought if something like that happened I could count of Helen or Michael to help me but they weren't around I guess. And without the bullet I couldn't fight the creatures like last time. So I ran. I hid in the tunnels. But then I was lost. It's so dark down there, and I didn't have a light."

Martin was pale as milk. Tears began to roll down his round, freckled cheeks. 

"You didn't go into the buried." He said numbly.

Melanie looked puzzled. 

"What? No of coarse not." She glanced at the closet, it wasn't visible from the angle but she remembering that the coffin was inside.

"Did you think I was in there?" She asked him, feeling a little touched he had been holding vigil for her.

Martin nodded sadly.

"The door was open and the chain was unlocked." He sobbed. 

Basira put a hesitant hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Melanie left Tim and stumbled over to Martin to hug him instead.

"Oh Martin it's OK, I'm alright." She told him but Martin just cried harder.

"I should go." Tim said awkwardly, taking a few steps back.

Basira's eyes snapped away from Martin to Tim.

"Jon went in there after her." Basira told him bluntly. "He went right into a spooky coffin that leads to the buried."

"What?" Melanie asked sharply.

Basira looked to her, frowning sadly. 

"He thought you must have been drawn there in your sleep. We all did, it made sense, we were all worried about it."

Basira shook her head and shrugged.

"The bowl of water we freeze the keys in was smashed, the closet door was unlocked, the chains were removed. It all added up..."

Melanie looked horrified. 

"Why the fuck would he do that?" Tim shouted. "That fucking moron, why does he keep throwing himself into danger like this?"

"Because he _cares_ Tim." Martin cried. He wiped his eyes viscously, composing himself. 

"And he isn't a moron, he has a plan to come back." Martin held up what looked like a thin bone, he shook it at Tim, a manic look in his eye.

"This is an anchor, he can sense it...he will be able to find his way back to it." Martin told Tim fervently. But then his face crumbled and he started sobbing again. Melanie hugged him tightly and gave Tim a pointed look. 

_come hug him too_

she said with her eyes.

But Tim just turned and strode quickly out of the archives. 

He ignored Melanie and Basira calling after him. He marched all the way up to Peter Lucas's office and angrily threw the door open.

The office was empty. Of course it was. 

Frustrated Tim grabbed a sticky note and scrawled an angry message on it slapped it on the screen of the computer and stamped off to his own office. 

Basira was standing in front of his door, arms crossed, glaring at him.

"What?" Tim snapped at her. "What do you think I can possibly do?"

"I don't know? Be there for your friends maybe?" Basira told him.

"Not get yourself killed as well?" She added.

Tim made a frustrated, exasperated gesture.

"We are all going to be killed." He yelled at her. "Haven't you worked that out yet?"

An awkwardly lanky, balding man Tim thought maybe worked in payroll was walking down the hallway but went wide eyed and hastily retreated in the other direction when he heard Tim yelling about being killed. 

Tim gritted his teeth. Great, the tea room was awkward enough, maybe he'd just start working nights and avoid everyone ever.

"So what's your plan then? Sacrifice yourself for the greater good since you're doomed anyway?" She asked.

"Well I'm hardly going to tell you." He told her. "Wouldn't want word to get back to our former boss after all..." Tim said, a touch of smugness leaking in to his expression as he saw Basira's eyes widen in surprise. 

"How do you know about that?" She snapped.

"I have my ways." Tim told her.

"Peter Lucas?" She asked, irritated, she looked a bit confused, like she was trying to work out why Peter Lukas would know or care that Elias had been meeting with her.

"Oh...don't know about those two huh? I thought you would have since you like to gossip about other people's personal lives so much." Tim told her nastily.

Basira scowled at him.

"You know what...fine. If you want to alienate your friends and throw your life away, none of my business." She told him angrily.

As she stormed away Tim let himself into his office and locked the door. He sat at his desk and took long slow even breaths until his pulse returned to normal.

He was just feeling calm enough to start work on some possible extinction statements when Peter Lukas walked in without knocking.

Tim grit his teeth, wondering irritably how Peter always managed to get through doors silently, especially if they were locked.

"I've asked you not to do that." Tim growled at him.

"You have." Peter agreed amicably but gave no apology or assurance he would change his behavior.

"What do you want?" Tim snapped at him when the man continued to just stand there quietly.

"What do I want? You seemed to want to talk to me about something...though I admit your note was somewhat vague..." Peter mused holding up the sticky note.

The note Tim had left read "WTF? you useless sack of shit." 

Tim supposed it was a little vague.

"The archives were attacked by the flesh again, and Jon is trapped in the buried." Tim told him.

Peter looked thoughtful for a moment.

"No..." He said eventually.

It took all Tim's restraint not to just deck him. That and the knowledge that although he didn't look it Peter Lukas was a dangerous person that could easily overpower him and send him into the lonely.

"What..." he asked instead, speaking pointedly slowly and calmly but clenching his teeth a bit with the effort. "...do you _mean_ by _no_?"

"I have it on good authority that the archivist went into the Buried under his own volition and has a plan to get out again, I'd hardly call that trapped."

Tim slumped, feeling defeated. He should have known better than to expect Peter Lucas to be helpful.

"And the Flesh attack?" Tim asked wearily.

"There wasn't one." Peter insisted.

"Melanie was attacked last night." Tim insisted.

"I don't think so." Peter said frowning slightly. "But we can always check the security footage, it's somewhat distorted in the archives but...."

The security footage did not record the archives themselves but showed people coming and going, and nothing came into the archives that night.

"This proves nothing." Tim told Peter irritably. "It could be faked."

"Or your friend could have had a PTSD flashback to the previous time she was attacked..." Peter pointed out.

Tim stared at him stunned. He had that feeling again, that he'd had after Elias explained to him that he could not leave, the overwhelming sense of helplessness and doom. 

"You really need to stop focusing on your old friend's so much Tim, after all they aren't as important as the job you need to do are they?" Peter told him.

"No." Tim agreed quietly.

"Good, glad we are on the same page." Peter approved. 

The next day there was still no sign of Jon. But in the afternoon there was a hesitant knock on Tim's office door. Tim was surprised to see it was Georgie. Tim had gotten to know her a little but they had never become close. 

"Are you here to lecture me about being a shitty friend? If you are don't bother, I'm aware, I just can't do anything about it right now." Tim told her bluntly.

Georgie just stared at him sadly for a beat before saying.

"That's not why I'm here."

Then she sighed.

"Anyway, I'm in no position to judge you about that." She told him. 

Tim just shrugged at her. 

"Well?" He prompted, he knew he was being a jerk, but she had to get the hint he was not a shoulder to cry on. He needed to be left alone.

"Could you help keep watch of the coffin?" Georgie asked.

"You won't have to talk to anyone so it won't mess with your self imposed solitary confinement or whatever."

Tim was about to argue and Georgie must have guessed this. 

"Please Tim. Martin's mother is in hospital, she probably won't survive the night. We want to be with him but we also don't want to leave the coffin incase Jon comes back and needs help, and there is only the three of us..." She explained.

"Oh..." Tim's heart broke for Martin, imagining him having to deal with his mother's death on top of everything else. 

"Melanie is with him right now, and I'm going to join them. Basira is in the archives but she is really busy and can't..."

"OK." Tim interrupted quietly.

"You'll go?" Georgie asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, sitting around with an ominous, spooky coffin and not talking seems to fit my job description." Tim shrugged.

Georgie gave him a small smile and left.

As she walked away he almost called after her to tell Martin how sorry he was, but he stopped himself.

He went down to the archives and found Basira sitting at her desk, reading through paperwork, the closet door to the coffin was thrown open and the coffin was unchained but closed. She looked up at Tim scornfully.

"Surprised you came." She muttered.

"Yeah well..." Tim shrugged.

"To be honest I wanted to talk to you anyway." Tim admitted. "Something occurred to me, something kind of _big if true_..."

Basira raised an eyebrow.

"Well?" 

"If it wasn't Melanie, who got the keys from the freezer and unlocked the closet door and the chains?" Tim asked.

Basira sat back in her chair and sighed.

"We thought of that..." She told him. "We were discussing it before...well before Martin got the call from the hospital."

"It could hardly have been one of those flesh creatures right? They wouldn't have known where the key was..." Tim reasoned.

"Yeah and they aren't exactly the use a key type, more likely to just tear the door of the hinges." Basira agreed.

"Another institute staff member?" Tim asked, with the air of a person who already knew the answer.

"I've been checking the staff records, no one else is missing." Basira informed him.

"Seems kind of suspicious don't you think?" Tim asked.

"I'm not sure what to make of it." Basira admitted.

"Well, it seems to me like someone staged things to seem as though Melanie had gone into the coffin." Tim said.

"Why though?" Basira asked. 

"So that Jon would go into the coffin after her." Tim answered.

"Yeah I get that's what you were implying but...why? If someone wanted to kill Jon surely there is an easier way?" Basira pointed out.

"Think about it...if someone planned this they would have to know about the keys in the freezer, so either it's one of us or someone spying on us, then they'd have to convince the flesh to attack Melanie to get her out of the way, if you're going to that effort why not just get the flesh to attack Jon? And after all that they can still only hope Jon would be stupid and reckless enough to go into the coffin after her, so again they would have to either know him or be spying on us..."

She shrugged.

"It just seems too elaborate." 

"But maybe the flesh didn't attack Melanie..." Tim told her.

"You think she's lying about that?" Basira asked coldly.

"No, I think she had a flashback to the original flesh attack." Tim told her.

Basira considered this for a moment.

"If that's the case then who opened the coffin?"

"Well there are two possibilities." Tim said, he was enjoying this a tiny bit, he had been a researcher after all, looking at evidence and making connections were part of his job.

"Either it was opportunistic. Someone who was watching and waiting and saw their chance to trick Jon.... Or, it was someone who could trigger a PTSD flashback in a person, someone who could, I don't know...make you relive trauma with their supernatural powers..." Tim mused.

Basira blanched.

"Elias? But why would he..." She trailed off, looking ill.

"He wanted me to send Jon in to get Daisy, but I refused." She remembered.

"Well, guess he must have decided to sweeten the pot." Tim said bitterly.

"But why?" Basira asked. She still looked ill, she had been the one that had been keeping Elias in the loop, she had been the one to tell him about the coffin.

"Why does he want Jon to go into the coffin so badly?"

"That is a _very_ good question." Tim agreed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally writing Jon in the buried. I'm somewhat of a buried avatar myself since I work with soil for a living.

As he made his way along the dark rough hewn stone steps Jon spoke aloud to the tape recorder he was carrying.

"I played a tape of Daisy recounting her first glimpse of the coffin...I...I got an immediate sense of where she is."

Jon's voice sounded shaky, nervous even to his own ears. The only other sound was his careful, hesitant steps on the uneven stone, echoing dully from the solid walls.

"I'm not sure how to explain it but...I can _feel_ her, I can get to her...I think."

He sighed shakily.

"The same thing didn't happen for Melanie though." He frowned to himself.

"I don't know what to make of that...what it means...but, well, I'm worried."

Jon had bought a torch with him, it illuminated an ever continuing flight of steps and dark stone walls, and nothing else. 

"The stone feels close." Jon told the tape recorder.

" To begin with the it was...well not spacious but the dimensions you would expect for a staircase. But the walls have gradually been closing in. At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks...the fear getting to me. "

He swallowed thickly.

"But now I can easily touch the ceiling." 

Jon's legs were beginning to ache with the constant repetitive motion of walking downstairs. The same muscles being used over and over. His right knee that had been particularly badly injured during the worm incident twinged painfully with every right step down. His left hip he had unknowingly been developing a repetitive strain injury in though compensating for his bad knee, pulled unpleasantly at every left step. 

And then of course there was the ribs...

Every breath moved the damaged ribcage sending a twang of pain through his chest and back. He tried to breath as shallow as possible, to lessen the pain. But it was difficult with all the exercise he was doing. He wasn't exactly fit and was rapidly feeling out of breath.

To pass the time and calm himself he kept speaking to the recorder. Telling it his every passing thought.

"I hope Martin is alright. I hope he doesn't fret too much."

Jon sighed.

"He will, he definitely will."

"I hope Basira and Georgie are keeping him company. They all have someone down here after all."

"They should form a support group. Can you imagine? Meeting in a church basement to drink bad coffee and talk about their shared experiences? A safe space for people with significant others trapped in the Buried"

Jon chuckled dryly to himself but stopped mid chuckled at the added pain it spiked in his chest.

"Laughing is a bad idea." He hissed through clenched teeth.

"The stairs go on for sometime and I'm not sure how much tape I have so I am going to turn it off until something changes." Jon announced then clicked off the tape.

Eventually he clicked it back on.

"I’m not sure how long it’s been. The steps ended, eventually. There’s passages, but - it’s very, uh… It’s close. I’m having some trouble, but.... I’m going the right way. I know it. I just - I-I just need to keep moving. When I stop, it - It starts to - p-press on me."

He struggled to get words out, the walls pushed in from all sides. The pressure on his body where his ribs were missing was agony. 

"I-I can’t stand. Anymore. I - It’s - It’s not a passage. Not anymore. It’s a tunnel. Barely that. But I’m - I’m definitely getting closer. If I can just..." Jon struggled through a particularly tight choke point in the tunnel and into the relative relief of tunnel that, though still horribly narrow, at least allowed him to crawl forward.

"My torch is broken. I didn’t even drop it. It - It got caught against the wall, and...Crushed. God, I..." He took a deep, almost sobbing inhale, it hurt but he needed it.

"I don’t even know how long I’ve been here." He told the tape miserably, then clicked it off.

As he crawled he could hear someone crying out for help. It wasn't Daisy or Melanie. It was a man. Jon tried to move towards the voice but it was so difficult to pinpoint where they were. He couldn't see at all, and the noise seemed to echo and carry strangely. 

"hello?" Jon called out to the voice.

"Please, oh god please is someone there? Please help me." The voice called back. Broken and utterly desperate.

"Where are you? How can I get to you?" Jon called back. He was trying, it was so hard to move, so hard to know if he was going the right way. He didn't know this person, he couldn't feel the way to them like he could with Daisy.

"Please help!" The voice cried pitifully. 

"Please I can't breath." 

Jon sympathized. He could barely breath. 

"I can still feel Daisy, I am going the right way, I think, when I can move at all..." His voice was getting very raspy and strained from thirst and exertion.

"It feels like every inch costs me another scrape, o-or bruise" He gasped, almost whimpering in pain. Moving was like dragging himself over a hard abrasive surface. His trousers had ripped at the knees and the skin was rubbed raw. He had dirt in his eyes, in his mouth. There is no part of him that wasn't uncomfortable or outright painful.

"The air is heavy. Soil and dust. I am - very thirsty. But I know I won’t die of it. I won’t die of anything down here. Not ever. Not if I - can’t find my way out. When I first came down, I could feel it, the - the part of myself I left outside, but -But it’s been getting fainter and now… I’ll try not to think about it. Don’t - don’t want to stretch my mind, to try and see, in case it’s not there at all. I can’t afford to think about it. Not now."

His breath is labored raspy pants of pain. He could barely move, pushing himself through shards of rock and crumbling, scratching dirt. He pushed rock and lose dirt out of his way, digging frantically to move forward. His hands were cut and chafed. He could feel the dirt working its way into the wounds. 

Sometimes the walls seem to squeeze him, pinning him and pushing in from all sides. And just when he thought he couldn't take anymore fear and pain, it backed off, and he was able move and breath again.

The sense of Daisy grew stronger and he could tell she was close. He called out to her, struggling to get closer.

"Daisy! D - DAISY!"

"Jon?" He heard her call back. At first she was so far her voice barely reached him. But after hours of agonizing digging and crawling he found her.

"You - You’re real. You’re _real_." Daisy marveled.

"Yes..." Jon gasped in pain, but bit it down. "I'm here Daisy."

"Daisy..."She said, almost dreamily. "Yeah, Daisy. That's me."

"Are you alright?" Jon asked her.

"I, I, I can’t move; I - I can’t - And I can’t - _breathe_ , and... _alone_. I, I think. I think. I hear, uh, this, sometimes - singing. When it’s we - when it’s wet. Or scratching, trying to get out - But I don’t - I don’t - I don’t think there’s - there’s anyone - there. It’s just - It’s just - me. Till now." She explained, struggling to get the words out, to catch her breath.

"Where are we?" She asked him shakily.

"The coffin. We’re in the coffin. I-It leads to… Well, it’s got a lot of names. Choke. The Buried. Too-Close-I-Cannot-Breathe." He wheezed breathlessly in pain as he said this, as if the demonstrate.

"It's the domain of the fear of being trapped, claustrophobia, chocking..." Jon explained.

"How did...why are you here?" Daisy asked him.

"I came to get you, and Melanie, sh-she's here somewhere too." Jon explained.

"You came to save me?" She asked brokenly.

"Of course." Jon told her. "you did the same for me." 

"No..." Daisy told him. "Not really."

"The circus would have killed me." Jon began, but Daisy interrupted him.

"No, that's not why I...not why I helped you, I had to _chase_ them. H-had to _hunt_ them..."

Jon struggled closer to reach out to her.

"It still saved me." He told her. 

"Come on." Jon urged her, gasping in pain. "Let’s get you out of here."

"But how?" Daisy asked him. "Can’t - can’t move. Even - if I - if I could. There’s no way out."

"It’s okay, I’ve uh - I’ve got a plan." Jon told her, managing to sound a little pleased with himself despite the pain he was in. 

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence.

"Is this part of your plan?" Daisy asked nervously.

"It’s fine.... I just - I just need to - to find it." Jon told her. He was trying not to panic but it was difficult. He could not feel a connection to his rib anymore. 

"Come on. Come on, where are you?" He muttered, frustrated, reaching out with his power and coming up with nothing but darkness and dirt and crushing oblivion.

"Jon?" Daisy asked him.

"Come on." He pleaded, frantic. As he strained harder a sharp static rose, his breath became ragged with effort, the injuries to his ribcage like a knife stabbing with each breath.

"Jon?" Daisy asked again more worried now.

"There is n-no out, not here. This is- This is forever deep below creation. Where the weight of existence bears down. This is The Buried, and we are alive. There isn’t even an up." His voice broke with a sob.

"Oh god. What have I done?" He whispered.

"N-Not alone, though." Daisy told him, reaching out she found his hand.

"No." Jon agreed, his voice barely a whisper.

"No, not alone."

"I'm so sorry Daisy." Jon told her brokenly. "you ended up here because of me. And now you are stuck here."

"N-no, not b-because of you, because of the hunt." She told him sadly. 

"I hurt. A lot of people. And some who - who I shouldn’t have...and it was just getting worse. Ramping up. I killed so many of those things, I n-never....never killed so many so quickly before. Maybe one a month, less, but s-since the institute...every few days there has been something _-someone..._ I was losing myself. Then at the waxworks I killed so many I lost count. Then, then- I was here. " She gasped in pain again as the walls tightened. 

"Y-You know what I thought, when I woke up here? I thought this was _hell_. I wa- I was dead, and I was in hell. And I..." She broke of to sob.

"I knew I deserved it."

She cried quietly for a moment. 

"I understand." Jon told her softly.

"One of the reasons I came down here, that I risked getting trapped...I...you were right, a-about me." He told her.

"I'm not sure I am human anymore. The dreams are _real_ , som-somehow I'm really there, and I-I don't know how it works, but I'm hurting people and I don't know how to stop." He told her shamefully.

"And I think it's getting worse."

"If we can ever get out of here, we'll be better, we'll try to be better." Daisy told him.

"Yes." Jon agreed earnestly.

"Better."

He was beginning to find it hard to speak with the pain in his chest. He wondered if he would ever heal inside the Buried, or if he would just be injured forever.

"Jon?" Daisy asked after he was quiet for a bit too long.

"Still here." He told her. "I just...I um...did something to my ribs and it hurts to talk."

"How did you hurt your ribs she asked." Sounding so concerned for a person who had once dragged him out into the woods to shoot him.

"I-uh, I needed to leave part of my body behind so I could feel it, so I could find my way back to it..." He sighed.

Daisy said nothing for a long time.

" Right." She said eventually.

Jon huffed a stilted laugh.

"Not like it's the strangest thing that's ever happened to me." He said defensively.

Daisy spoke instead since it hurt Jon to, it made her feel better to hear herself talking, to know there was someone there who could hear her. She told Jon about her fears, about her regrets, about her hopes. 

Sometimes the space around them would constrict and they could do nothing but wait for it to be over. Sometimes, if only to give them false hope the space would open up, and they would be able to move a few feet. 

Though he couldn't sense the way out Jon had decided to try and keep moving around, looking for Melanie.

"I hope we can find her." Daisy told Jon.

"I liked Melanie, she had...has...spirit."

"Yes." Jon agreed.

"The two of you have a lot in common, she also tried to kill me!" 

"No?!" Daisy gasped.

"Wasn't her fault, she...she..." Jon broke off.

"Do you hear that?" He asked.

He could just make out the sound of the man he'd heard earlier, begging for help.

"Yeah..." Daisy agreed.

"It sounds like..." She shuddered. "Like Zack."

"Isaac Masters?" Jon recalled. "Your old partner?" 

"Yeah...I think it's him." Daisy whispered.

They managed to make their way towards him.

"Zack? Zack it's me Daisy, do you remember?" Daisy asked the sobbing, desperate man when they finally reached him.

"Zack...I-is that...is that me?" He asked in a tiny, broken voice.

"Yes." Daisy encouraged. "Isaac, that's your name."

For a while he seemed too overwhelmed to speak, he just cried quietly. Daisy was patient with him. She remined him about who she was, about who he'd been when she met him, when they worked together.

"How long?" He asked.

Daisy didn't say anything, but Jon, not great at tact and acting reflexively told him.

"Fourteen years." 

Zach only sobbed harder, with a hysterical edge to it.

Daisy comforted him. She spoke more personally after that. About people they'd both known, about funny things they'd laughed about together, getting drinks with the crew after work. About his family she'd apparently keep an eye on over the years. 

Eventually the man calmed. 

Then Jon felt something change.

"Daisy!" He gasped.

"I-I can sense it again, it's stronger somehow!" He told her excitedly. 

Daisy cried in overwhelming relief.

"You know the way?" She asked. 

"Yes...but..." Jon hesitated.

"We can help him along." Daisy told Jon, straining against the pressure to maneuver Zack between herself and Jon. 

"But...Melanie?" Jon said sadly.

For a moment they were silent.

"Jon..." Daisy pleaded.

"If we don't go now...what if you lose it again? What if this is our only chance?" 

Jon knew Daisy was right. He was straining to help both Daisy and Zack along through the crushing, close earth, even if he did know where Melanie was he'd never make it to her with the burden of two others. And there was every possibility this reprieve was temporary. 

But as they made their way through the clearing passage Jon couldn't help but picture Georgie's face when he told her he would get Melanie back, and crying silent miserable tears as he imagined having to tell her he hadn't been able to find Melanie after all.

Melanie was in fact standing in front of the coffin. She had left Georgie with Martin and come to take her turn waiting for Jon to emerge from the coffin.

She found both Tim and Basira there tending to a cacophony of tape recorders around the coffin, changing tapes, rewinding, changing batteries. There was tapes all playing at once. Jon's voice droned and overlapped and blurred together like the hum of bees around a hive.

"Melanie, we were just..."

"Creating some sort of... Jon shrine?" Melanie interrupted.

Basira smirked.

"No, it was Tim's idea, Jon is pretty fond of these things....and his own voice..."

The coffin began to make the ominous humming noise it did when it rained.

It wasn't obvious at first, drowned out by the buzzing of the recorders. But it grew and grew, sounding more agitated and the recordings began to fuzz with static in harmony of the coffins song.

Melanie, Tim and Basira stared at the coffin in trepidation.

Suddenly the door creaked open, and three filthy, haggard figures stumbled out. 

First came Daisy, who gave Basira a small, oddly shy smile. 

"Oh my god." Basira gasped.

"Hi." Daisy greeted her. She looked thin and worn. She almost fell as she tried to walk towards Barsia. Basira rusher over to help her, leading her over to the break room couch.

Next came a stranger, a man who was so emaciated he looked more like a skeleton than a person. He barely managed even a step and that was while holding on to the edge of the coffin for support and being held up by whoever was behind him. Melanie was filled with compassion for this wretched person and gently helped the unknown figure over to the couch as well, very careful with him as he felt as fragile as a newly hatched bird. 

Lastly came Jonathan Sims. Looking messed up and tragic as usual, maybe a bit more so than usual....He was literally covered in scratches and bruises and dirt.

Tim wordlessly gathered Jon up in his arms and carried him into the break room as well.

" _Tim_ you complete bastard!" Jon hissed at him furiously, smacking at him feebly with his small, weak fists. Then hissing in pain as it hurt him more than Tim.

"I've been _trying_ to talk to you for weeks!" Jon scolded his friend. His voice was so dry and raspy and weak, but so huffy and indignant it made Tim want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Then Jon noticed Melanie.

"Melanie!" He cried joyfully. It tore at his dry throat and made him cough.

"Jon you moron." Melanie told him fondly.

"I wasn't ever in the coffin. But even if I was, you shouldn't have...you shouldn't risk yourself like that." She insisted.

Jon nodded to show his agreement but it was at odds with the relived and self satisfied expression he had, even if he did look pained and exhausted.

Basira phoned an ambulance. There was no question the mystery man would need it and Basira convinced Daisy to go and get checked out as well. But Jon refused. 

"It's just scrapes and bruises." Jon dismissed.

"Let's see what the EMTs say." Basira told him diplomatically.

Tim noticed Jon looking around, with a slightly confused expression and realized he was looking for Martin.

"Martin is with his mother in the hospital." He told Jon.

"Oh...is she alright?" Jon asked, frowning.

Tim hesitated, Jon looked so tired and injured. He needed to get cleaned up and rehydrated and have a shower and a nap at least. Tim wasn't sure how he would react to hearing Martin's mother was actively dying, but it was probably more than he could cope with until he had at least drunk some water and rested a bit. 

"She not doing very well..." Tim hedged. "Georgie is with Martin, don't worry, just chill out five minutes if that's even possible for you." Tim told him.

Jon scowled but was distracted by the EMTs arriving before he could ask more questions.

Isaac had fallen unconscious moments after stepping out of the coffin. He was taken away on a stretcher. 

Daisy was dehydrated and agreed to go to hospital overnight for observation. But Jon obstinately refused to go to hospital. The EMTs looked Jon over and agreed he could avoid hospital if he rested and kept his fluids up, they left bottles of hydrolyteand instructed Tim and Melanie on what to di ad what to look out for. 

Then Basira left with Daisy and Melanie went to get Jon some food and a change of clothes, leaving Tim and Jon alone briefly.

Tim was attempting to clean Jon's many cuts, scratches and grazes with a bowl of warm water and iodine and some antibiotic ointment. It was hard work as the dirt was so well worked in to each cut and there was so many.

"Tim whatever you are up to with..." Jon began to say but Tim cut him off.

"Nope." Tim said firmly.

"We are not having this conversation right now." Tim told him.

"You need to rest and drink your hydrolyte, not have a really intense conversation about spooky stuff that's worrying you." Tim pointed out.

"We could have had this conversation weeks ago if you weren't avoiding me." Jon grumbled. 

Tim sighed.

"Look, I know you aren't going to like this..." Tim began.

"I already hate it." Jon muttered.

"...But you're going to have to trust me." He gave Jon a serious look.

"Please, it's important."

Jon huffed a sigh.

"Can you at least explain it?" He asked.

Tim shook his head sadly.

"It's too risky. Please, I'm asking you to trust me."

"I do trust you Tim...I just-I hate this." Jon admitted unhappily. 

Then Melanie returned.

"OK, I have food, and clothes and a clean towel. Do you want to eat first or shower first?" She asked.

"Definitely shower." Jon said emphatically. He couldn't wait to longer feel gritty.

Tim slipped away without saying anything while Melanie was helping Jon over to the bathroom and making sure he was ok to shower by himself. She felt such a rush of anger at Tim for sneaking off like that she considered him lucky she didn't have the bullet in her leg anymore when Jon emerged from the shower, looking cleaner but dead on his feet and was devastated to find Tim had left.

While Jon was eating the food Melanie bought him Melanie's phone chimed with a message.

"Oh..."She said sadly when she read it.

"What?" Jon asked her, he was struggling to keep his eyes open long enough to eat, but her tone worried him.

"Um, well, it's just...Martin's mother has just passed away." Melanie told him.

Jon lurched to his feet.

"Ok let's go." He said firmly.

"Jon, you really need to rest." Melanie said uncertainly.

"No." Jon argued. "Martin always looks after me. He needs me now, I-I'll be fine, we might need to stop for coffee on the way but I'll be fine."

Melanie sighed.

"Alright, if you insist."

"I do." Jon said, already making his way out of the institute.

By the time they arrived at the palliative care hospital Jon was full of enough caffeine that he was able to achieve a jittery kind of alertness. They made their way to the correct room and found Georgie hugging and comforting a grief stricken Martin. They both looked up with tear stained, worn out faces and when they saw Jon jumped up and ran to him, gathering him into a hug as well.

"I'm sorry Martin." Jon told him soothingly.

"I'm here now. I'll look after you this time." He promised.

"Don't do that again." Martin begged.

Georgie also fixed him with an affirming look. Silently agreeing with Martin.

Jon returned their hugs but couldn't meet their eyes.

He wasn't sure he could promise something like that.


	22. Chapter 22

If Jon did say so himself he was nailing it at looking after Martin. He had been so worried he would be terrible at it. Jon knew he was terrible at taking care of himself and had never really been required to take care of another person before.

He hadn't had to care for any family members, he hadn't had any family members to take care of apart from his grandmother who had been a very healthy and independent person. Her health had only declined suddenly right at the end of her life. And even then he hadn't actually been the one to care for her. Not the way Martin had looked after him when he had been so ill recently.

Jon's grandmother had been fine one minute, then she was in hospital being cared for. She didn't need him, she barely seemed to want him around. This had probably been borne from a desire to protect him from the horrors of dying of old age. All his grandmother had really seemed to want form him during was assurances _he_ was fine. So he had gotten very good at that.

Jon never really dated anyone other than Georgie, and she was also very self reliant and had no great tragedies during their relationship. So Jon had been a bit worried that he would mess up now that Martin needed him.

But, Jon was far exceeding his own expectations in being there for Martin during his mother's death. It filled Jon with a heady, euphoric sense of being needed, of being useful. 

Jon hid how badly his ribs hurt so Martin wouldn't have to worry. And he even managed to spin the whole Buried experience as a cake walk. As some easy victory over the dread powers that plagued them. And now Daisy and Melanie were fine and he was fine, so there was no reason for Martin to worry about anything but his own grief. He barely let Martin fuss over his bandaged hands and knees, and even then, only when he saw that it seemed to sooth Martin to fuss over him.

"Really, it's all superficial, cuts and bruises, it will heal in no time." Jon insisted as Martin had ghosted his fingers over Jon's damaged skin, looking sympathetic and worried, and not sure where to even start with changing his dressings.

Jon was ashamed that he had expected, when he first emerged, exhausted and aching from the coffin, that he could just collapse into Martin's arms and be doted on and cared for. But he realized how self absorbed he had been the moment he heard that Martin had been at his mother's death bed and could therefore not just pick Jon up from his latest disaster and love him back to health as Jon had come to expect.

Martin always looked after everyone, and now he needed looking after. Jon was determined not to fuck it up.

Happily his skillset seemed to be perfect in this particular instance.

Jon knew about hospice care, he knew what to expect when a person died in hospital and what to do, he'd had to deal with this before. Jon also knew about organizing a funerals. He knew how to sort out the legal side of things and manage the deceased estate. He felt a thrill of self worth he had never experienced before when Martin, exhausted and spent with grief had hugged him and thanked him earnestly, saying he didn't know how he could have managed it all alone. 

Jon also understood what it felt like to lose your sole family member, he had experienced it, he knew how hard it was and how much it hurt.

He knew it wouldn't be any easier because because Martin ad his mother hadn't had a great relationship. Losing a parent was or parental figure was brutal, even if they didn't really love you the way they you hoped they would. Jon tried to buffer Martin from the sting of it all and the inexplicable guilt Jon knew he would feel.

Jon tried not use his powers to know other people's thoughts but it was hard to control. It wasn't even like reading their minds, he would just suddenly have the information in his head. Like he suddenly knew Martin was sad and kind of angry that he'd never just demanded to know what his mother's problem had been with him. Was it because she had given up her youth to care for him as a single mother and due to her poor health never got the respite of having freedom later in life? Did she resent him squandering her best years? Was it because he was gay? Was it because of his weight? Now he'd never know. 

Jon felt horribly guilty that he'd gained access to these private thoughts. He didn't want to tell Martin, at least not while he had so many other things to worry about. but Jon also felt like not telling him would be dishonest. He decided instead to tell Martin something personal about himself.

"When my grandmother died, one of the things I found hard was all the unresolved issues we'd had with each other."

The two of them were curled up in bed. It was late but Martin was struggling to get to sleep. Jon gently ran his fingers through Martin's hair as he spoke.

"There are a few things that always bothered me, like... she never seemed to smile around me. She didn't want to come see me graduate, didn't want to meet my friends or girlfriends. I think, well...she probably hadn't wanted to have to raise another child so late in life...but I also suspect she never really liked my father. There was just something about hte way she said his name.... And I look a lot more like him than my mother so...well, at least I think that's how she felt. It's how I thought she felt. But now I'll ever know for sure." 

Martin had seemed grateful that Jon understood, but even though it seemed to help Martin, Jon felt monstrous for intruding on Martin's inner thoughts. He agonized over it and slept poorly.

Unsurprisingly Jon's body let him down a few times. But he got lucky and was able to hide it from Martin. The first time it happened was the first night back from the coffin, Jon had finally got Martin to lie down and rest and was making him some tea. Jon must have got up too suddenly because his vision went fuzzy and he was barley able to click the kettle on to boil before he simply blacked out in the tiny kitchen. He woke up confused and aching on the linoleum about four hours later. Luckily Martin had succumbed to the exhaustion of the emotionally draining week he had just had and was sleeping soundly, oblivious to Jon passing out just meters away from him.

On the actual day of the funeral Jon almost passed out again. He had been feeling terrible all day, his many bruises aching and all his muscles feeling the strain of dragging himself through the dirt for hours on end. But he stubbornly ignored it. He had been successfully ignoring how tired and pained and breathless he felt since he came out of the buried so far and he was hardly going to let the day Martin needed him most to be the day he dropped the ball.

Jon had been running on caffeine and desperation for so long that feeling dizzy and a bit nauseous were par for the course and he didn't realize how close he was to fainting until just before it happened. Suddenly the world was just a static whine and black and white shapes. Jon had just enough time to excuse himself and make it to the bathroom before he dropped to the tiles.

He woke up to Melanie slapping him lightly on the cheek.

"Christ Jon, are you alright?" She asked him.

"Wha'?...m'fine." Jon slurred, cracking an eye.

"Well you are currently lying on the floor of the women's bathroom so that seems unlikely." Melanie pointed out.

"Oh..." Jon sat up, but hissed in pain as it tugged at his injured ribcage and made his head pound and spin. Thank god it had been Melanie who found him and not one of the judgmental older women who were presumably friends of the deceased.

"Take it easy." Melanie sighed when she saw Jon was trying to get up. "I'm not kicking you out I'm just...worried."

"Don't tell Martin I fainted." Jon pleaded. "I'm fine and he has enough on his plate."

Melanie looked him over critically.

He was covered in healing scrapes and yellowing busies and seemed utterly exhausted, but she understood his motivation to pretend he was fine.

"Only if you promise to drink some water and eat some food and rest this evening." She eventually conceded.

This is what Jon had planned for the evening anyway, right after he finished dealing with the remaining arrangements for the cremation and the wake, and possibly taking care of Martin if he drank too much at the wake...

At the wake Jon's main focus was on shielding Martin from as many of the bitchy remarks or homophobic comments as possible. If her friends were anything to go by Jon couldn't help but think Martin's mother had been a real piece of work.

Luckily Melanie and Georgie were both there and helped to keep Martin company and comfort him. Unluckily they also encouraged him to drink heavily.

Every time Jon glanced over at Martin he was either downing a drink or being handed another one. 

"So you work with Jane's son then?" A grey haired woman in a stiff beige dress suit who's name Jon hadn't even bothered to attempt to commit to memory asked him.

"Martin." Jon told her, barely anyone who wasn't specifically here for Martin seemed to know his name and it irked Jon.

"Is he your intern then?" the woman asked, glancing over at Martin with poorly disguised contempt. "Must have been working him hard, he barely got away to visit." She remarked.

"Martin is an archival assistant." Jon told her through gritted teeth. "It's a very important role and yes, his work has been invaluable so he probably couldn't get away as often as he would have liked."

"Oh yes, assistant, that's right." The woman agreed blandly.

The eye fed Jon the knowledge that this woman had once hit a drunk teenage girl with her car and drove off quickly without stopping to see how badly injured the girl had been.

Jon grit his teeth. 

"Oh yes..." Another woman of the same age, dressed in peach linen with a long string of pearls at her throat, who had been standing nearby chimed in, edging closer to join the conversation.

"You would have thought having a boy, well, _like that_ , he would have visited poor Jane more often. Not like he was going to have a family." the new comer remarked.

The eye gave Jon the knowledge that these women had noticed Jon watching the amount Martin was drinking with trepidation and that mistook his concern for how hard it would be to get Martin home, and how bad Martin would feel in the morning for contempt, and had concluded Jon would be on board with bitching about the man.

Jon spluttered indignantly at this, surprising both women. 

"Oh you didn't know?" The second woman said, smirking a little.

Jon's heart filled with rage and the air took on the faint hum of static.

"It's funny the things we wish other people didn't know" Jon told the women, his voice soft and contemplative.

"Like how you would hate anyone to know that lied about being a widow, when in fact, your husband divorced you ten years ago. After all it was against both of your religious beliefs but he just found you _that_ unpleasant to live with."

The woman in peach squawked in surprised anger. The woman in the beige dress suit looked shocked but a little amused.

"And you obviously wouldn't want anyone to know about that poor young girl you killed in 1998..." Jon told the second woman.

"You have never been sure you killed her, but yes, you did. It wasn't the initial impact that was fatal though, she would have survived if you had stopped and called an ambulance. You ruptured her spleen, you can live without a spleen, did you know that? Well you can, with medication and care, she could have lived a normal life... but she never had the chance, she bled to death before anyone else came a long."

Both woman had turned horribly pale, they both made frantic, spluttered excuses and left quickly.

Jon sighed to himself. That probably hadn't been a great idea. He looked for Martin and found him clinging to Georgie and sobbingly explaining that in a way he was glad he didn't know why his mother hadn't liked him, because maybe it had been something he couldn't have changed, or something he liked about himself, and now he'd never have to deal with that, but also he just knew it was going to eat at him and make him always doubt himself.

Both Georgie and Melanie, who were pretty far gone themselves, were insisting that Martin was amazing and that they loved him.

"To be honest..." Georgie slurred, gesturing with a glass of scotch.

"It sounds like your mother was a bit of a-"

"Alright, I think I should be getting Martin home." Jon interrupted. The rest of the funeral attenders were glaring a the trio and Jon didn't want Martin to later worry he had made a scene at his mother's funeral if this started an argument.

Jon managed to get Martin into then out of a cab to their apartment. Jon had only ever seen Martin tipsy once or twice, he was usually a happy drunk but now he was almost incoherently drunk and weeping openly.

"She never even liked me..." Martin sobbed drunkenly as Jon led him, supporting a good deal more of his weight than his body was happy with, up the stairs to their apartment. 

"Well she had terrible taste then." Jon told him soothingly, trying not to pant both so he wouldn't give away how much he was struggling and because it hurt.

"Noooooo, you don't get it, s'not about me." Martin cried. 

They had finally made it to the door and Jon had to lean Martin against the wall carefully so he could regain the use of his arms to unlock the door.

He tried not to despair when he saw Martin slide down to sit on the floor. Jon wasn't sure if he had the strength to help him up again if he wasn't able to stand himself.

"She had to spend most of her life with a person she didn't even like." Martin sobbed. 

Jon unlocked the door then leaned down and wrapped his arms around Martin, planting a kiss on his tear stained cheek.

"I'm sorry she made you feel like that. " He told Martin.

Jon managed to coax Martin up and into the apartment and onto the bed.

When Jon tried to help Martin out of his suit Martin, obviously still out of it and probably not even all that sure who was there, began trying to make out with Jon.

Jon didn't know what to do, he wasn't a huge fan of making out at the best of times, he had to really be in the mood for it to not find it overwhelming and he was definitely not in the mood, he was exhausted and in pain. Martin's kisses were sloppy and smelled so strongly of bourbon Jon felt he was getting drunk just from being kissed. 

Jon tried to extract himself as gently as possible. Martin had dealt with so much rejection in his life. Jon didn't want him to think he was rejecting him now.

"Ok, this is nice but..." Jon said wriggling out of Martins clumsy embrace. "...you probably want to brush your teeth and drink some water."

"Water?" Martin scoffed.

"What do I want water for? I want more whiskey." Even as he slurred this his face changed, all colour drained from it and he leapt of the bed and ran to the toilet to throw up.

Jon sighed and followed him to rub his back and say comforting things until Martin was able to stop puking up everything he'd ever eaten. 

Then next day was much easier for Jon, Martin was miserably hung over and just wanted to spend the day in bed. Jon tried to convince Martin to take some more time off work, but wasn't actually that surprised when Martin didn't want to. It was easier to cope, he remembered, if you keep busy, take your mind off things. 

Besides, it seemed they had some important things to deal with at work. Basira insisted on a meeting in the tunnels to discuss some pressing issues.

Melanie, Daisy, Basira, Jon and Martin met in the room Gertrude's body had been found. It was a bit creepy, but frankly so were all the other tunnel meeting options.

"Ok we need to talk about some of the things that are going on around here." Basira began.

To begin with they all went over what they all knew about the fear entities, since they had never really all sat down and discussed it there was a lot of things that they all should know but didn't.

For example, everyone knew there were fear entities and avatars and the rituals, they knew that these things tormented people and sometimes had attacked the institute, and were trying to grab more power. But only Basira knew about Smirk's theory of the fourteen fears. 

She explained, and also laid out Tim's theory that Elias had manipulated Jon into going into the Buried.

"I'm going to try and kill him again!" Melanie fumed.

"This time I'll help." Martin told her and the two of them awkwardly fist bumped.

Daisy snorted in dry amusement at them but was deadly serious on the subject when she asked Basira more about it.

"Do you think he is trying to kill Jon? He did kind of encourage me to..." She broke off, looking hesitant to admit it. "To hunt him." She told them.

Jon had been in deep thought. He patted Daisy on the shoulder in a clumsy, barely conscious gesture of comfort when she said this. She looked small and weak and frightened in a way that was just not like her. Daisy was not coping well with being in the tunnels. They were too reminiscent of the Buried.

"I think we need to look into the rituals for the entity we serve..." Jon said thoughtfully. 

" You think Elias is trying to preform a ritual?" Martin asked.

"Maybe?" Jon sighed. "There are a few things that have happened that worry me that may be the case." 

"Michael said he wanted to kill me because he didn't want the eye to win... why would he think that unless I am part of the beholding's play for power? Elias was always so weird and specific about what he let me know and when. He could have given me a lot of helpful information to but he refused. Why? And the most damming thing of all is that Elias killed Gertrude because she was trying to burn down the archives. Why was she doing that? Same reason she did anything, to stop a ritual!"

"If killing you will stop the eye from winning why is Elias trying to kill you?" Daisy pointed out.

"I don't know." Jon sighed.

"Should we burn down the archives?" Melanie asked, a tiny bit eagerly.

"I'm not sure that's a great idea." Jon said, looking physically pained by the very thought.

"I do think Gertrude is a good place to start though." Basira said. 

"we should look into why Gertrude Robinson was trying to burn down the archives. One minute she's looking at how to stop the Unknowing, then she changes her mind and decides burning down the archives is priority number one." Basira mused. 

"I think you're onto something." Jon told Basira. "Maybe we need to retrace her steps, see where she went leading up to trying to burn down the archives...Maybe then we can work out why." 

It turned out that Gertrude had done a lot of traveling just before she was murdered. She had flown to New Zealand, France, China, and the Unite States not long before she had died. 

"I think it would be best to work our way backwards." Basira told Jon as they went over Gertrude's past movements.

They put in a travel request for the four of them, Jon, Basira, Martin and Melanie. Daisy was still too weak, but only got approval for Jon and Basira. 

"It's fine." Martin told Jon. "I know how important this is."

"Are you sure you will be ok alone though?" Jon worried.

"I will, and I won't be alone." Martin assured him.

"You better look after him." Martin told Basira firmly. 

"You know how easily he gets kidnapped." 

Basira rolled her eyes at Martin. 

"I'm not going to let him get kidnapped." She scowled irritably. 

Sadly these words would come back to haunt her....


	23. Chapter 23

The thing about Jon was that even if he was actually being rational, his general aura of disarray made anything he said seem paranoid and irrational. Basira certainly thought so anyway when they had landed in the Chicago airport and Jon declared he was being followed.

They had been separated briefly when going through customs. But she caught sight of him quickly again once she was through. He was huddled against a wall, looking around himself furtively and trembling. His hair was an insane bird's nest, his eyes were bloodshot, bruised with exhaustion and kept darting around suspiciously. 

"Basira." He hissed to her as she made her way over to him through the crowed airport, he was extruding a kind of manic, twitchy energy that she could just tell was going to get on her nerves quickly.

"We're being tailed." He told her in a low ominous voice.

"The police officer behind us...DON'T LOOK... he's been following us since we landed, and he looks... off..." Jon rambled. 

"OK." Basira said levelly. Easily locating the person Jon was talking about without being obvious since this kind of thing was literally what she had done for a living. 

"I'm not sure who they are with but they keep looking at me..."

"Hmm, maybe they're looking at you because you're covered in weird scars and acting suspiciously. Probably think you're a drug addict or something." Basira told him, unconcerned. 

Jon spluttered and looked affronted by this.

"I _don't_ look like a drug addict!" He scowled.

"You're shaking and sweating and acting cagey..." Basira pointed out.

"I just got of a twelve hour flight." Jon snapped. He ran a hand through his wild curls in a belated attempt to look more professional. 

"And you keep talking to yourself." Basira added.

Jon did talk to himself a lot, sometimes because he was dictating to his tape recorders, but also he would occasionally kind of lose focus for several seconds, stare into middle distance and recite random information as if he were a public service announcement. 

"I don't..." He paused and frowned, as if considering this. Then scowled again.

"It-it's not my fault!" I just get information fed straight into my brain sometimes and it's _distracting_." He told her sulkily.

"Whatever." Basira shrugged, making her way through to baggage claim.

She pulled her bag from the carousel and looked around again for Jon. He was struggling to extract his bag with his scrawny little noodle arms and when a well meaning person stepped over to help him Jon flinched like he expected to be hit and glared at the stranger until they backed away, confused but amicable.

She briefly debated taking her phone out and filming him just so she could show him how generally eccentric he looked to other people. But before she had the chance he saw her and hurried over. 

"The police officer is still there." Jon told her nervously.

Basira saw the officer he was talking about, but they were just standing around drinking coffee. 

"Doesn't look like he's following you to me." She insisted.

"Then why is he there?" Jon asked, agitated.

"Maybe he's doing his job?" Basira offered.

"He's not customs, he's dressed like a regular beat cop." Jon insisted.

"So what, crime happens in airports too." Basira shrugged.

Jon seemed to relax a little when they left the airport and there was no sign the officer had followed them.

They checked into their hotel, they had a twin room with two beds.

"Want to get some rest before we head out?" Basira asked Jon. He wasn't acting so jumpy anymore but still looked tired and wan. 

"No no, let's get on with it." Jon told her. "I'll just shower and change then I'll be ready to go."

But he fell asleep lying sprawled across his bed while waiting for Basira to also shower and change.

Basira decided to let him have an hour or two but he jolted awake from a nightmare in under thirty minutes. 

"Sure you are ok?" She asked him.

"Yes, let's go." He told her, slapping at his cheeks lightly to wake himself up.

They went to the address Gertrude and Gerard had been staying in Chicago. The owner's were friendly and helpful, but had no answers for them. As they left they noticed the police officer from the airport again.

"See he is _definitely_ following us." Jon said looking torn between triumphant and alarmed.

"Maybe." Basira admitted.

It was getting late in the afternoon so they went back to the hotel and ordered food and discussed their next move.

"We should go and check out the Usher Foundation, see if Gertrude went there." Basria suggested.

They would have to be careful, they were on this trip under the guise of finding a way to stop the Stranger's ritual. They didn't want to tip of the Magnus institute that they were also looking into why Gertrude had been trying to destroy the archives incase they found out it was still necessary.

Jon agreed with Basira about the Usher Foundation.

"One of Greyhound routes there goes through Pittsburgh. Now, according to the details Melanie retrieved a few months back, Pittsburgh is where Gerard Keay allegedly died. He was admitted to UPMC Presbyterian emergency department having suffered a massive seizure, and died less than a day later. I think we should pay a visit and ask around." He told her.

"Allegedly?" Basira asked.

"Well, some of the people mentioned in statements who were thought to be dead turn out not to be." Jon told her. 

Basira hoped she would never have to share a room with Jonathan Sims again. He seemed to have some sort of personal vendetta against sleep. He stayed up stupidly late clicking away at his laptop. Then eventually fell asleep with his laptop still on so the light bothered her and she had to get up and close it for him. Then he tossed and turned all night. Rambling in his sleep and frequently waking himself with nightmares.

No wonder he always looked so wrecked.

She had wanted to be grumpy with him the next morning but Jon looked so pitiful she didn't have the heart. His eyebags had darkened and his posture drooped. He barely picked at his breakfast and drank three cups of coffee despite clearly not enjoying them. 

On the car trip to Pittsburgh he slumped against the door of the rental car and though he was quiet and still she could tell he wasn't asleep because his eyes were open, if only a crack, and he winced at sudden movement and any noise louder than normal speech. 

"So how should we play this?" She asked as the made their way through the foyer of the hospital. "Pretend to be police?" 

"Hmm?" Jon looked up at her blearily. "why?"

"Well you can make them tell you, but they will need to look up the information, this happened over a year ago, and the doctor on call might not be here." Basira pointed out.

Jon nodded but didn't look as if he was actually paying attention.

"This way." He told her with an air of surety that was at odds with his disheveled appearance.

"How do you know?" She asked as she followed him through the maze of hallways.

"I just....know." He said vaguely.

Jon led Basira through to a hospital room. There was a handful of sleeping or unconscious patients and a nurse attending to them. Jon made a beeline for the nurse.

"Louis Brown?" Jon asked the man.

"That's me." The nurse replied, he seemed friendly and courteous.

"Tell me about the night you treated Gerard Keay." Jon told him, his voice crackling with static.

Louis looked a little startled.

"Yes, I remember him. He was admitted when I was on duty, having a grand mal seizure and it had been going on for a dangerously long time. His mother was with him, she told us that he had a brain tumor and that was why he was seizing. It was so strange, how cold she was about it. So matter a fact."

Jon shivered when Louis said this, wrapping his arms around himself as if to try and give himself comfort. 

"We did what we could for the man." Louis continued. "Put him on a drip, gave him anticonvulsants, but his cancer was too advanced. He should have been getting treatment a long time ago. He had another seizure an hour or so after being admitted and we couldn't save him."

Louis looked sad at the memory.

"When we told his mother she acted more like it was some sort of inconvenience than anything. When we asked why he wasn't getting treatment for his tumor she just said they had been busy, that there had been no time. I mean, what the hell right? Then there was that horrible business with mutilating the body." 

"Tell us more about that." Basira said, surprised by this detail.

Louis blinked slowly.

"Uh...who did you say you were again?" He asked.

"It's ok Louis, tell us about the body mutilation and then we will leave and you can get back to work." Jon told him.

Louis looked at him, dazed.

"Oh....yeah, of course." He agreed, frowning a little confused.

"I didn't see it myself, but I heard Gerard Keay's mother was arrested later that night. She apparently broke in to the morgue and was doing something weird with the body, like cutting it up or something... horrible business, satanic cult probably. Don't know what happened to her, but she never organized a funeral for Gerard or anything. He was cremated here after no one claimed the body." 

Jon nodded, he looked devastated. 

"Thankyou Louis, you have been very helpful." He said dully and walked off before Louis could properly come out of the daze he was in and start demanding answers.

"So he is definitely dead then." Jon said sadly to Basira when they were back in the car.

"You're surprised by that?" She asked.

"I guess not, just...disappointed, he could have been helpful." 

They checked in to another hotel in Pittsburg, and the Basira's annoyance had to get a twin room again. Basira called through to the institute, due to the time difference it was stupidly early but Daisy answered and agreed to look in to Gertrude's arrest and get back to them as soon as possible. 

"I miss you." Daisy said just as Basira was about to hang up, she sounded sad and wistful in a way that Basira had never associated with Daisy before. 

She didn't like it.

"Are you doing your exercises?" Basira asked, unsure how to respond.

"I'm trying, it's not easy by myself." Daisy admitted.

"The other's aren't helping you?" Basira asked, annoyed.

"They offer, but... well, Martin and Georgie clearly don't like me, and I hate bugging Melanie all the time..." Daisy explained.

Basira was trying not to be cold towards Daisy but she was so disappointed. She had been hoping for someone to help shoulder the burden of responsibility with her. They were dealing with some terrifying forces, their job was important. But everyone she had to work with was just such a _mess_. 

Basira didn't know what to make of this new Daisy who had returned from the Buried so hesitant and vulnerable. She missed the old Daisy who had always been competent, strong and practical. The old Daisy wouldn't have cared that people hated her, wouldn't have complained about being lonely and needing help. The old Daisy wouldn't have needed help. 

"Well, keep at it, we need you fighting fit." Basira told her, hoping she sounded encouraging.

"Yeah..." Daisy said sounding sad and wistful again. Then hung up.

Jon came out of the bathroom where he had been recording what they had found so far. He looked terrible. His complexion ashen and he was trembling and sweating again.

"Alright?" Basira asked frowning at him.

Jon looked at her blearily and rubbed his face with both his hands.

"I'm not feeling so good." He admitted.

He didn't sound so good either, his voice was hoarse and a little wheezy.

"It's probably jetlag. Wouldn't be so bad if you slept or ate like a normal person." Basira scolded him, annoyed that every person in her life seemed to need her to mother them, it was really not what she was about.

Jon actually seemed pleased with her response though.

"Yes, jetlag...you're probably right." He agreed.

"Maybe I'll lie down for a while...try to get in synch with the time zone..." Jon muttered flopping down on his bed tiredly.

A few hours later his phone woke him. It was Martin calling with information on Gertrude's arrest. He had been able to determine that she had been arrested for trespassing and that the arresting officer had been named Jay Rebecks, Gertrude had apparently been released without charge. 

"They released her?" Basira asked astounded. They had caught the woman red-handed desecrating a corpse.

Jon looked no better after his nap but insisted he was fine to go to the police station to speak to Officer Rebecks.

"Oh yes I remember that case." Rebecks said with a grimace when Jon compelled his way into the station and found the officer they were looking for.

"It was a strange one alright. We got called out to the UPMC Presbyterian hospital, apparently there was a trespasser in the morgue. Don't know what I was expecting, some kind of pervert I guess, that's what cases like that usually are. But I was definitely not expecting an old English lady. She was nicely dressed, hair in a neat bun, really prim and proper. Well... apart from the fact she was standing over a body of a man who had a big panel of skin stripped from his abdomen. She was reading aloud from this big, demonic looking book. "

"A book?" Jon asked. "Do you remember the title?"

"Didn't have one. It looked like some sort of satanic bible though, gave me the creeps. It was strangely shaped and made of leather, even the pages were leather, and the writing wasn't in English."

"Why didn't you charge her?" Basira asked, then rolled her eyes when the officer just seemed to hesitate and look at them suspiciously, like he was wondering why they were there.

"Why didn't you charge her?" Jon asked quickly.

"She said it wasn't her that did the mutilations to the body, and we couldn't prove it was, there was no blood on her, you would think there would be blood with what had been done to him. And she was so _calm_. Not frightened or nervous or angry at being caught, just sort of...disapproving? Like we were the ones in the wrong for interrupting her. I can't remember exactly what she said, just that she talked us into letting her go, she left the book behind though, we have it in evidence." 

"Show it to us!" Jon asked eagerly.

Basira was worried Jon's compulsion wouldn't stretch this far, but the officer seemed happy enough to retrieve the book for them. Unfortunately it appeared the book had simply vanished.

"Great another dead end." Basira sighed. 

Jon didn't answer her, he was staring at someone across the foyer from them. It was the same cop from the airport.

"Maybe we should confront them here.?" Basira whispered to Jon. "While we are surrounded by other police?"

"We don't know how many of the officers here are...whatever they are." Jon pointed out. 

In the end they left without confronting him. Basira took great pains to make sure they weren't followed to the hotel.

Jon had noticeably declined since they left the police station. He seemed confused and disoriented. His responses were delayed and often didn't match the question she had asked. He didn't react when Basria parked at the hotel, just sat there blinking sluggishly and staring vaguely at nothing. 

Reluctantly she reached out and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. He jumped in surprise but relaxed when he saw it was her.

"You're running a fever." She told him.

Jon was unsurprised by this news.

"I'm not...feeling well." He told her, he sounded nervous about it.

Of course he was, Basira thought, they were far from home, being pursued by a avatar that was also a cop, the last time that had happened to Jon he had nearly been killed, and to top it off he was feeling so ill he could barely string a sentence together.

"You probably caught something of the flight." She guessed.

Basira led Jon up to their room and helped him into bed. He was able to walk but was dizzy and confused. It had been difficult to get Peter Lukas to approve travel for anyone other than Jon, she had eventually been able to navigate the red-tape of getting approval for her to accompany him as well. She dreaded to think how Jon would have faired on his own in this state.

Basira considered going to the Usher foundation alone and just leaving Jon to rest. But when she looked at him, curled up in a shivering, miserable ball in the hotel bed, she didn't think it was a good idea to leave him alone. He was too vulnerable and they were being stalked after all. Hopefully it was just a 48 hour bug and he would be well enough to travel again soon.

Martin called Basira later that evening panicking because he had been unable to reach Jon.

"He's sleeping." Basira told Martin, this did not reassure the man at all because Jon sleeping was apparently so out of character it just made him panic more.

"Is he alright? It isn't late where you are. He sounded ill on the phone earlier, do you think it's from being far from the institute? The email said it would be fine since you're on Archive business but I don't know how much we can trust..." Martin rambled in one breath.

"Martin relax." Basira interrupted.

"He probably just picked up a bug on the flight. If he isn't better tomorrow I'll take him to a clinic." Basira promised.

She had just flopped down on her bed with a sigh when the front desk called to say there was a letter for Jonathan Sims. Basira collected it, expecting it to be from the cop that was stalking them. To her surprise it was from Elias, it was a statement. There was a short note inside that simple read "to tide you over." 

Basira read the statement, it didn't seem relevant to anything they were researching. She wondered suspiciously what Elias meant by the note. 

Jon woke of from his miserable restless sleep from a nightmare about the Buried. He gasped and struggled for a moment, thinking he was trapped, but quickly realized he was covered in blankets, not soil. He looked around the dimly lit room confused and disoriented, not sure where he was.

"W-where m'I?" He asked aloud. 

Basiras's voice answered him.

"We're in a hotel room, in America, remember?" 

Jon blearily honed in on her voice and found her sitting on a bed next to his, holding some sheets of paper and frowning at him in concern. The paper she was holding seemed to call to him, he wondered what it was.

"You OK?" Basira asked cautiously.

Jon considered this, he doubted it, he felt horrible. Everything ached and his skin felt painfully sensitive.

"Jon?" Basira asked again, he was taking too long to answer her, just sitting there blinking slowly and looking like he might pass out at any moment.

"Wh-what is that? You're holding it? The paper?" He struggled to phrase the question.

Basira pursed her lips.

"Don't worry about it, just go back to sleep, you can deal with it when you are feeling better." She told him.

But it seemed so urgent to him, he needed to see it right away. He held out a trembling hand to the sheets of paper.

"Please." His voice was a hoarse and shaky. 

Basira sighed.

"It's a statement, from Elias. It doesn't seem relevant, it's not about the Stranger or the Eye." She told him.

"I-I want to r-read it." He told her, trying weakly to get up.

Basria looked torn.

"I don't think you should." She told him.

"Please. I-I need to read it." He begged, his voice cracked and he coughed painfully.

"I don't know...Elias keeps tricking you into horrible situations...I don't think you should do what he wants, whatever it is." She explained.

But Jon could barley follow what she was saying, just that she was refusing to give him the statement, and he needed it. The statement could be important. it could be the piece of knowledge that finally bought everything together so that it made sense.

"Please." He begged, tears welling up in his exhaustion bruised eyes.

He felt hot shame at how pathetic and unreasonable he was acting but he couldn't help it. He felt so ill and desperate. His head pounded, his vision was fuzzy, and a burning, primal voice was screaming inside him that he needed to read that statement.

"Please Basira." He begged miserably.

"Alright, here." Basira gave in and handed him the pages.

Jon read the statement aloud, his voice grew a little stronger as he read, he was able to sit up more in bed. A very faint green glow shone in the depths of his eyes as he read aloud.

Basira watched him with trepidation. She wasn't sure what she had expected but it seemed no different than any other time she had seen him read a statement.

When he was done he just quietly put the statement aside on the bedside table and curled up back to sleep.

Basira wasn't sure what to make of it.

The next morning though Jon was obviously feeling much better. His eyes were clear and mind was sharp, he had stopped shaking and sweating. He ducked away when Basira tried to check his temperature and told her curtly he was fine, which more than anything reassured Basira he was.

"As much as I'd like to believe it was getting a good nights sleep that sorted you out..." Basira began reluctantly as they drove towards the Usher Foundation.

"It was the statement." Jon agreed morosely. "It seems that I'm dependent on them."

He scowled.

"I hate going along with anything Elias wants but if I need to read statement in order to stay healthy enough to work, then I guess that's what I will have to do for the time being."

They stopped at a diner to get some food and use the restrooms. When Basira came out of the women's toilets Jon had simply vanished. After she checked everywhere she he could possibly be hiding in the diner she managed to convince the staff of the diner that she was a British police officer and got them to show her their video surveillance.

In the five minutes she was away Jon was approached by a woman in rough denim and tall leather boots. Jon appeared to leave with her willingly but Basira could tell from his body language that he was frightened. 

Basira couldn't believe he had been kidnapped again on her watch. Martin was going to be furious.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basira get's Jon back from his kidnappers and Jon had Gerry's page from the skin book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write about Jon and Gerry meeting, but I decided that there was nothing really that I wanted to change about it. So from Jon's point of view everything happens like in cannon.

Basira had been looking for Jon for several hours when her phone rang. She sighed praying silently it wasn't Martin again. To her surprise it was Jon.

"Jon! Are you alright?" She asked.

"I'm fine, I um...the people who...um... kidnapped me have agreed to help me...with getting information about the ritual, and then they will let me go." Jon told her haltingly, he sounded stressed and frightened but alright overall. 

"What do you mean they are going to help you?" Basira asked.

"They have a resource that could help us find out more about the rituals and they've agreed to let me use it. Shouldn't take long, maybe an hour at most." Jon explained.

"I was hoping you could pick me up after? I'm a few hours north of that café..." Jon asked hopefully, as if he'd tell him no, get the bus.

"I'm on my way, but Jon, maybe you should try and get away right now? Information would be great but are you sure you can trust them?" Basira asked suspiciously. "They abducted you."

"Well yes, true, but they also saved me from that cop who was following us. Turns out he was with the Stranger." Jon told her.

There were some odd sounds in the background. Muted arguing and struggles.

"Where are you exactly?" Basira asked. 

It took her over an hour to get to there. Jon was waiting for her in front of a long abandoned house. A large menacing looking older man stood on one side of him and a solidly built, equally menacing looking woman stood on Jon's other side. He looked so small and helpless next to these people. They all looked relaxed though, Jon looked a little stiff and awkward but no more than usual. As she approached she saw they even had drinks in their hands. 

"Lost somefink?" The old man asked with a gruff laugh, nudging Jon towards her.

Jon stumbled a little and spilled his drink.

The two strangers laughed.

"Jon? You alright?" Basira asked.

She kept her hands in view, Jon had mentioned his abductors were armed and she didn't want to give them any reason to shoot at her.

The woman snorted in amusement.

"Yes...I'm fine, thanks for picking me up. Uh...this is Trevor and Julia by the way." He said awkwardly gesturing to pair.

"Basira." Basira introduced herself to them dryly, of course Jon was now on first name basis with the people who had abducted him.

Julia snickered.

"Nice to meet you Basira, you with the hunt too?" Julia asked.

Basira stiffened.

"Basira works for the institute as well." Jon told Julia quickly.

"Hmmm, well..." Julia said in a slow drawn out way, she seemed almost to be smelling the air around them as she spoke. "You may serve the eye now but you definitely have a flavour of the hunt about you." Julia told her with a wolfish grin.

"We need to go." Basira told the trio.

Jon nodded eagerly.

"Yes, thanks again, Trevor, Julia, you were very helpful."

"Sure." Julia shrugged, still grinning her unsettling predator grin. 

"Be seeing you Archivist, next time we're in London." Trevor told Jon.

When they were safely in the car heading away Jon sighed in obvious relief and sunk into the seat.

"Really, are you OK?" Basira asked.

Jon nodded.

"That was...well, a lot happened very quickly and it was frightening and kind of...overwhelming I guess, but yeah, I'm OK." He told her.

He looked pale and was shaking a little but Basira decided not to press him.

"What happened?" She asked him.

Jon explained that Julia had singled him out in the café and insisted he come with her, implying she had a weapon. He explained that Trevor an Julia had been trailing them since the hospital, they could tell he was supernatural and wanted to hunt him, but then they noticed a more enticing target in officer Mustermann and changed tactics. 

"They both serve the Hunt if that wasn't obvious, they hunt other avatars...like um..well...like Daisy did." Jon said awkwardly.

"Trevor as in Trevor Herbert from those vampire statements?" Basira asked.

"Yes, and Julia is Julia Montauk as in the daughter of Robert Montauk."

"The serial killer. " Basira said surprised.

"He was with the Hunt? I thought he was with the Dark?" Basira frowned.

"He...well, it's complicated." Jon said, he sounded tired. "We can go into it later, anyway, they decided not to kill me when they found out I work for the Magnus institute."

Jon told Basira about being the bait in Trevor and Julia's plan to ambush Mustermann. Tehn he described them interrogating Mustermann later when he wasn't fully healed. 

"It was...revolting." Jon shuddered. "He only had half a face and a hole in his chest the size of a fist." 

"I'm sorry." Basira told him.

Jon sighed.

"At least I was able to find some information that was useful. The Beholding's ritual is called the watcher's crown. Not sure how to stop it but I did find out that Gertrude kept a storage unit in London." Jon explained.

"That is where we should look next for leads on stopping the rituals."

"You want to go back now? There are more leads to follow here." Basira pointed out. 

"Oh I want to get on a plane out of here as soon as possible." Jon said eagerly.

"I...er...I stole something from Julia and Trevor, I'd like to be out of the country before they notice." He told her swallowing thickly.

Basira raised an eyebrow at him.

"You stole from those two?" She asked, a little impressed at his audacity.

"What did you steal?"

"Gerard Keay." Jon told her nervously.

Basira raised her other eyebrow.

They drove to the nearest airport and got the first available flight back to London. Jon was a nervous wreck until they got through security and onto the plane. Then he crashed. He slumped against her in his sleep, boneless with exhaustion. 

Basira didn't have the heart to shove him off her.

Eventually though he began to twitch and whine in his sleep. After a few minutes of this he woke himself with a strangled cry, sweating and panting with panic.

"Relax, it's just a nightmare." Basira told him.

Jon blinked at her for a moment, trying to orient himself, but then he did relax, slumping into his seat with a sigh and rubbing his eyes.

"God I hope Julia Montauk never finds a way to fly back to London." Jon groaned.

Basira gave him a curious look.

"I just...um...I was in her nightmare..." Jon admitted nervously.

"I thought you weren't doing that anymore." Basira said accusingly.

"I don't know how to stop it." Jon told her irritably.

Basira glared at him icily, clearly not considering this an excuse.

"Do _you_ have any control over what you do when you're asleep?" He asked her.

" _I'm_ not a psychic, knowledge monster." Basira snapped back. 

Jon pouted with her until he fell asleep again and once more slumped against her shoulder.

Basira glared at him but just rolled her eyes and allowed it when he snuggled into her. She had to admit he was kind of cute when he was asleep. At least he was quiet.

Gerald Keay felt himself pulled back into being from the page he was bound to and found to his annoyance he was once again facing the new Archivist of the Magnus Institute, Jonathan Sims.

"Should have known you wouldn't keep your promise." Gerry sighed. He wasn't sure where they were, it was a room, like a home office but with a lot of recording equipment. Gerry frowned at it suspiciously.

"I'm still going to burn your page, I just..." Jon began.

"No." Gerry snapped. "I'm not telling you anything else, I'm done." 

"I don't want anything else from you Gerry." Jon pleaded.

"I know what it's like to be held against your will, it's horrible, I will never do that to you Gerry, I won't force you to do anything you don't want and I will burn the page the second you tell me to." Jon told him earnestly. 

"I just didn't want your last moment, your last memory to be trapped with those two thugs, forced to tell me things against your will. You were a good person you deserved better." Jon told him, stumbling over his words a little, looking hesitant, shy, it made Gerry cool his anger for a second, curious.

Gerry shrugged.

"Talking to you wasn't that bad." He told Jon. "It's just, not natural to be like this...I don't want to be like this anymore."

"I know." Jon told him sadly. "I'm sorry I can't change that, but I was hoping I could do something nice for you before you go."

"Like what?" Gerry asked, intrigued.

"Whatever you like." Jon told him eagerly. 

"Is there anyone you want to say goodbye to? Is there somewhere you'd like to go? Something you'd like to see or do?" 

Gerry frowned to himself, considering.

"Disneyland." He told Jon eventually.

"Oh...um...we're not in America anymore...but well....maybe..." Jon stammered.

"Kidding." Gerry scoffed. 

"Right, of course." Jon chuckled nervously.

"No, thanks really, it's a nice thought but..." Gerry sighed and shrugged.

"Well, all my cowo-my _friends_ , really want to meet you." Jon told Gerry.

"Not to get information from you." Jon added quickly seeing Gerry look suspicious. "I already told them that was off limits. They just...well, we've all heard a lot about you, and frankly, there aren't a lot of people we learn about in our line of work we admire." Jon told him.

Gerry just looked confused.

"You helped people." Jon told him. "You destroyed evil things. They want to meet you, they want to...well, throw you a wake I guess you could put it."

As Gerry listened the guarded look on his face slowly relaxed.

"A wake?" He asked slowly.

"Yes, just, you know, if you want, no pressure." Jon blushed.

Gerry laughed.

He considered it for a moment.

"I get to choose the music." He said firmly.

"Obviously." Jon agreed.

"And you will burn my page the second I say, no arguments." Gerry insisted.

"I will." Jon told him earnestly.

Jon led Gerry through to another room, a living room in what appeared to be a nice apartment. It wasn't full of people but there was a small group of five waiting for them. 

Jon introduced Gerry to them in turn.

"Gerry this is Basira and Daisy." Jon said gesturing to the two women sitting next to each other on a sofa. One looked strong and alert, the other weak, like she was recovering from a bad illness or injury. 

"Nice to meet you." Basia said. 

"I used to be a cop and I had the pleasure of arresting Diego Molina after he burned down a house in Claphum." She held up a hand to show a thin band of burn scar. 

"He killed my partner. Nasty way to go too." She frowned into her drink. "Jon told me you stopped him, saved a whole hospital full of people, so...." Basira tipped her drink to him, like a cheers.

"Thankyou."

Gerry looked surprised, wistful, no one had ever thanked him before and all he really remembered from that night was the pain of the burns he had suffered and the horror of killing Diego. He hadn't really thought of it as a win.

He wasn't sure what to say in return but Jon was already introducing him to the next person.

"And this is..." was as far as he got before the woman jumped up eagerly.

"Georgie Barker, so nice to meet you! Oh my god, can't believe I'm meeting an actual ghost!!!" She gushed, her eyes bright and star struck.

"Georgie." Jon said in a warning tone.

"Sorry, sorry, I won't fangirl anymore I promise... It's just so exciting!!!! I do a podcast, What the Ghost, have you heard of it? You probably haven't. I would LOVE to interview an actual ghost!" Georgie told him excitedly.

Jon shot her a warning look.

"Only if you want, and you could talk about anything you like! Your favorite movie, your taste in music, you don't have to talk about horrible things if you don't want to." Georgie assured him.

Gerry couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe, I'll think about it." He told her. Georgie beamed.

"This is Melanie." Jon continued along the line.

"Hi, big fan, particularly liked the way you beat up Jurgen Leitner." Melanie told him.

"Thanks, but it wasn't really him." Gerry told her with a grin, he liked this one.

"No it was." Jon said. "He told me."

"Jurgen Leitner told you?" Gerry asked confused. "You met him?"

"Yes, right before he, well he was beaten to death by the head of the institute." Jon told him awkwardly.

" _Elias Bouchard beat Jurgen Leitner to death_?" Gerry asked amazed.

"Yes, with a pipe. framed me for the murder, it was quite traumatic actually." Jon added then quickly moved on when the last person cleared their throat irritably, as if annoyed at being left out. 

"And this is Martin." Jon introduced.

"Nice to meet you." Martin said.

"You too," Gerry agreed. Still a little dazed by the information he'd just heard.

"I'm Jon's _boyfriend_." Martin added pointedly.

Melanie snorted and rolled her eyes at Martin. 

"You can't be jealous of a dead person Martin." Melanie scolded him.

"I'm not." Martin said huffily.

"I was just letting know."

Gerry grinned, amused.

Jon had disappeared briefly but returned holding a fluffy black and white cat.

"And this is The Admiral." He said holding the animal up.

"Nice to meet you sir." Gerry said formally.

The Admiral blinked at him nonplussed.

Now that Gerry had met everyone they fell into a kind of easy comradery that was uncommon for Gerry. It was nice, all these people had experienced the supernatural so he didn't have to try and pretend to be normal to fit in. 

Jon set up a playlist of all the the songs Gerry wanted to hear. Daisy and Basira talked about some of the weirder cases they had been part of. Gerry told them about some of his weirder experiences. Georgie was almost incoherent with excitement. Even Martin seemed to get over his jealousy and enjoy chatting with Gerry. The Admiral, unconcerned by the noise and the crowd and the ghost, curled up in Jon's lap and purred contentedly. 

Melanie tried pouring a drink through Gerry to see if it would get him drunk. It didn't. 

"Stop pouring wine all over my floor!" Georgie shrieked, but she was laughing, it was white wine at least.

"S'what you're meant to do to honor the dead right?" Melanie slurred, she was a bit drunk. 

"Pour one out." 

Gerry laughed.

Later when Georgie was telling everyone about the next ghost story she was investigating for her podcast she heard a soft snore from Jon and glared at him, thinking he was mocking her podcast, but quickly saw he was genuinely asleep. He had slumped against Martin and dozed off with the cat still curled up in his lap.

"he's such a lightweight." Daisy laughed.

"Sims! Wake up, it's not even that late." Melanie yelled then laughed when he didn't even stir.

"Is he alright?" Gerry asked, now that he thought about it Jon had looked exhausted the last time he had seen him as well. 

"He just had a long flight." Martin explained looking down at Jon fondly and shifting to make the sleeping man more comfortable.

"So did I." Basira argued. "And I wasn't asleep and feeding on people's brains the whole flight."

"Don't say that, that's not what he does." Martin snapped at her.

"what do you mean?" Gerry asked.

"He goes into people's nightmares..." Melanie told him with a sloppy wave of her arm. "...and ya know, and feeds on their trauma."

"But he can't help it." Martin added quickly.

"But he isn't trying to stop." Basira pointed out with a shrug.

"He doesn't know how, anyway, it's not like _he's_ hurting people." Martin said pointedly.

"Easy for you to say." Georgie huffed. "He's not haunting your dreams is he."

"Georgie, I'm sorry I didn't mean..." 

"Yeah at least Daisy only went after evil things." Basira snapped at Martin hotly.

"Basira don't." Daisy said wearily, blushing and trying to shrink into the sofa.

"Oh really? Evil things like Jon you mean?" Martin accused.

Jon woke up from the yelling and looked blearily around the room.

"Why are you all arguing, this is Gerry's last night." He asked them annoyed.

Everyone fell silent and looked contrite.

"Sorry Gerry." Martin said blushing.

"No it's ok." Gerry told them. He had been watching the exchange, fascinated. It seemed like there was so much going on, he had to admit he was curious.

"Anyway, it won't be my last night after all, I've decided to stay." He shrugged.

"Really?" Jon asked eagerly.

"Yes, this has been fun, and you have me interested, I want to know more." He admitted.

Georgie screamed and clapped. Melanie poured more wine on the floor.

"No! My poor rug!" Georgie scolded her.

Gerry wondered if this was what it would have been like if he'd had extended family, instead of it just being his mother. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerry questions the gang on some of the stuff going on in the archive, then they just hang out and bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of a not very plot relevant fluff piece that was meant to be part of the last chapter but I kept agonizing over whether it was good enough to post for some reason. But I have got out of that negative loop in my head and decided to just post it.

Gerry was feeling better than he had in years, definitely since he had died, but maybe even before that. He had never had a group of friends like this before, people who understood him and liked him. It made him feel real. It made the pain of his nonexistence fade to the background, to a bareable level.

Also having a mystery to investigate was quite thrilling and distracting from the whole being dead thing.

"OK, to start with can you explain more about the dream haunting thing." Gerry asked Jon.

He noticed that Jon seemed miserable and uncomfortable whenever anyone mentioned any of the abilities he had gained from being the archivist. Gerry felt bad bringing it up but he also wanted to help, he needed to know more about it.

"It happens if someone gives me a statement in person." Jon explained. 

He looked so embarrassed and ashamed by the situation, Gerry noticed. Curling into himself and fidgeting nervously.

"They dream about the experience in the statement." Jon explained sadly.

"A-and I am there...in their dream."

"Interesting." Gerry mused.

" Only it doesn't seem to effect institute staff." Jon told him.

"So even though probably everyone here has given me a statement I only haunt Georgie and Daisy's dreams because they aren't institute staff."

"Is it every night?" Gerry asks Georgie and Daisy.

"No." Georgie sighed. "Not every night, but often enough that it's really annoying."

Daisy just shrugged.

"Sorry." Jon told them, wilting with shame.

"Can you tell me what happens?" Gerry pressed.

Georgie shuffled uncomfortably but nodded. Melanie puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Well, it's...the statement was about a brush I had with the embodiment of the fear of death. I'm in a room in the medical science building in my old uni, the dissection room, lying on the floor, dead. I know I'm dead, I can't feel anything, I can't move or feel my body at all and it feels horrible." 

She shudders and Jon curls into himself a little more, shuddering as well. Martin frowns at them both, like he wants to interrupt, to comfort hem both but doesn't dare.

"But you can see? You see Jon there?" Gerry confirms.

"Yes, he's there, watching me, his eyes are massive and kind of glow green. He never says anything. Just stands there and stars at me. " Georgie describes.

Daisy briefly explains her encounter with Breekon and Hope and the coffin.

"In my dreams I'm back there, in the rain with those two goons, and that awful humming noise the coffin makes. Jon is there as well, just standing there in the rain, watching. I feel so much dread knowing what is going to happen because I have seen it all before. I watch my partner disappear into the coffin and then I find myself being drawn into it as well. I can't stop." She tells them, shaking with stress of the memory.

"I didn't know you were still having them after the Buried." Basira said softly. "You never said."

Daisy sighed.

"I didn't want you to be angry with Jon about it." She admitted. "And to be honest it's nice to be able to dream again, even if it's bad, there was no sleep in the buried, no dreams. I'm grateful." 

"What happened with the Buried?" Gerry asked.

Daisy explained about being trapped in the coffin and Jon rescuing her and her former partner.

"I've never heard of anyone getting free from something like that." Gerry admitted, astonished,

"You saved a woman from the Lonely once." Jon told him, remembering the incident because it was one story that had given him hope he could get out of the Buried..

"Did you know? Andrea Nunis, it was in Genoa, in Italy, 2010." 

"Oh yes, I remember." Gerry said thoughtfully. "I wondered about her, if she got away or not." 

He smiled wistfully again. It was nice to think his life had some positive effect. Even if he hadn't been aware of it at the time.

"What are the dreams like from your perspective?" Gerry asked Jon.

Jon shuffled uncomfortably again.

"I don't really remember them, only bit's and pieces and only if I think about them as soon as I wake up." He admitted. 

"They're not pleasant for him though." Martin interjects.

"He is so restless in sleep and most nights wakes up crying or screaming." Martin told the room.

Jon blushed and looked embarrassed by this information.

"Martin..." He scolded mildly.

But Georgie seemed to soften towards Jon about this.

"I'm sorry Jon, I guess I should have considered that the dreams are unpleasant for you too." She told him.

"No Georgie you have every right to be angry." Jon argued.

"And I know it's been frustrating for you to think I'm not trying to stop it but I just haven't had any idea how. I tried sleeping less but..."

"But he already barely sleeps and it's destroying his health." Martin cut in again hotly. 

Basira sighed.

"No one said we wanted you to stop sleeping Jon." She scolded.

"Yeah well no one really gave the impression they cared much about Jon's health either." Martin told the womaen haughtily and glared daggers at them but Jon interrupted before they could start bickering.

"Anyway it doesn't matter, I have a plan, a theory I'm going to test." Jon told them.

Everyone looked at him with mild trepidation.

"Is this anything like your previous plans?" Daisy asked nervously.

"He's not _great_ at plans." Melanie told Gerry with a smirk.

Jon looked affronted.

"My plans work sometimes! Well, at least....half of the time." He grumbled.

"What is your plan?" Georgie asked.

"Well, I think I may have worked out what my version of the ghost bullet is." Jon told Georgie.

"When we where in the United States I went too long between reading statements and I got really sick, like I was going through withdrawal, I'm dependent on them now, like an addiction. I think it's the statements that are making me change, giving me abilities." Jon explained.

"So I'm going to try weaning myself off the statements." He told everyone triumphantly.

This was no met with the enthusiasm he was expecting.

"Are you sure that is a good idea? If it's going to make you sick." Martin worried.

"Will that stop the dreams though? Those things don't seem....connected." Georgie asked.

"What do you mean by ghost bullet?" Gerry asked.

"How are you going to keep researching how to stop the rituals without reading statements?" Basira asked.

Jon sighed.

"I will try weaning myself off statements slowly and hopefully I won't get so bad as I was in America." He told Martin.

"I don't know but it's the only thing I can think to try." He told Georgie.

"Melanie got shot by a ghost and the bullet was lodged in her leg and slowly poisoning her, driving her towards the Slaughter, but she was able to remove it and now she isn't stabbing people randomly anymore." Jon told Gerry.

'I'm still stabbing people, just not randomly." Melanie joked.

Martin shot her a withering glare, still not very happy about the whole stabbing Jon incident.

"And as to stopping rituals...." Jon addressed Basira's question.

"Elias wants me to read statements, he keeps pushing me to read them, even now that he's gone." Jon pointed out.

"And whatever he is doing with his mind games and manipulation, it's probably part of the Watcher's Crown. Not doing what Elias wants is our best bet towards stopping the Eye's ritual." Jon explained. 

"Maybe we should go look into the storage unit before you make a decision on this." Basira suggested. 

"I think it's a great idea." Georgie enthused. 

"Those statements are horrible! And if you are dependent on them you should definitely try and break away from that." She encouraged him.

"You didn't see how sick he got without them." Basira argued.

"I went cold turkey last time. This time I'll slowly taper off reading them, it should be easier on my body." Jon reassured Basira, and Martin who looked very unhappy about the prospect.

"I guess you can always start reading them again if it gets too bad." Melanie shrugged.

Daisy didn't say anything, but her face was clouded with conflicted emotion. 

"Did Gertrude go into people's dreams?" Jon asked Gerry curiously.

Gerry shook his head.

"If she did she never mentioned it to me." 

"Anyway that's enough institute business talk, this is still Gerry's wake, even if he's sticking around. We should be drinking and telling stories about how great he is!" Melanie declared.

Gerry scoffed.

"We should play never have I ever!" Georgie suggested, she sounded excited and a bit tipsy.

"I don't think-" Jon began but Melanie interupted with a drunken cry of happy agreement.

"Yes! Do you know how to play Gerry?" Melanie asked then began explaining to rules before he had a chance to answer.

"Everyone takes turns asking if everyone has done a particular activity or had a particular experience, and if you have you take a drink. Oh..."

SHe seemed to realised the problem as she said this.

"OK, new rule, if the thing you ask is something Gerry has done he gets to nominate a person to drink for him." She told everyone.

"I never agreed to playi-" Jon began but Georgie shushed him.

"Quiet Sims it's my turn." She said firmly, giggling.

"OK, never have I ever....kissed a boy." 

Everyone took a drink except Basira, and Gerry obviously.

"Never?" Daisy asked.

"Boys are gross." Basira shrugged.

"Can't argue with that." Melanie laughed.

"Gerry?" Georgie asked.

"I'm going to have to designate Martin to drink for me." Gerry grinned. "Just look at those lips, I bet he's kissed the most boys out of everyone."

Martin blushed bright red and scoffed but obligingly took a drink.

It was Melanie's turn next.

"Never have I ever played in a band." Melanie said looking at Jon with a wicked grin.

"That's not fair, you told her!" Jon snapped at Georgie then downed his drink with a savage glare.

Melanie and Georgie howled with laughter.

"What really?" Martin asked, looking star struck.

"Do you have any of the music?" Martin asked delighted.

"Don't encourage them!" Jon scolded.

But Georgie was already getting up to put the album on.

"It's actually pretty good." Gerry told him smiling.

It wasn't that different from the music on Gerry's playlist. 

"it's amazing!" Martin enthused, now a bit drunk after having two drinks in rapid succession.

"You have such a beautiful voice!" He told Jon fondly.

Jon grumbled petulantly but couldn't help but look a bit pleased.

"Martin your turn." Georgie reminded him.

"Oh right...ummmmm, never have I ever, uh, lied on my CV." Martin said taking a drink and grimacing.

Everyone except for Jon also took a drink.

"God Sims, your such a goodie two shoes." Melanie scoffed at him.

"Gerry?" Georgie asked.

"Look this is kind of embarrassing but...um...what's a CV?" Gerry asked.

Everyone laughed, but not in a mocking way, just in a mutual understanding and commiserating that their lives were weird kind of way.

"That's a definite no." Melanie laughed.

"Ok then I assign my drink to Daisy." Gerry said. "She seems much too sober for a person who is drinking straight spirits."

Daisy tipped her drink to him and downed it.

"Sims, your turn." Georgie prompted him.

"Ok fine." He said tersely then looked at Georgie with an evil grin.

"Never have I ever dated a person just because I found out they lived in the house where a triple homicide happened occurred in the hopes they'd have a spooky tale about it." 

"That wasn't the only reason! I can't believe you'd... whatever!" Georgie scowled and took a drink.

Melanie cackled.

"I wish Tim was here." She said, suddenly feeling a little sad.

"He'd love this." Martin agreed.

They continued to play until Jon fell asleep again and Martin decided to take him home. Daisy and Basira decided to leave too. Gerry decided to stay at Georgie's and they stayed up a bit longer watching a horror movie together and laughing at what regular people found frightening. When Georgie went to bed she left the television on for Gerry, since he didn't need to sleep.

Gerry sat watching terrible late night TV with the Admiral and feeling content for the first time in his existence. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon begins quitting the statements and Gerry adjust to life in the archives.

Jon had been reading two or three statements a day, so to begin with he restricted himself to one a day for a week to see how it affected him. It was fine, he felt a little run down but fine. He sometimes had that small internal voice urge him to read a second statement, reminiscent of quitting smoking. _Just have another one today, it was a long day, you can get back on track tomorrow, no one will know._

But Jon ignored it and focused on other things. For one thing there was Gertrude's storage unit. He went to check it out with Martin and Melanie. Gerry decided to come along as well.

Jon opened the roller door to a unit so crowed with boxes they could barely shuffle in between them.

"Huh..." Martin said thoughtfully.

"What?" Jon asked him.

"I just… I thought it would be less… I don’t know, crowded." Martin admitted with a shrug.

"Oh, you know Gertrude. If something’s worth doing, it’s worth… looking through two dozen unmarked cardboard boxes for." Jon sighed.

Gerry scoffed, amused.

"Makes sense that an archivist would be a hoarder." He pointed out.

"So, what **are** we looking for?" Melanie asked.

"I’m… still not exactly sure. I-It might be an old, taxidermied gorilla skin. Or… not." Jon told them.

"An old, taxidermied gorilla skin....or not." Gerry said contemplatively. "Interesting split of categories." 

"Apparently it should be obvious." Jon told them a bit defensively.

They searched through boxes of eyeless pictures and dolls and other assorted things until they found the burnt remains of the skin.

"Well, not the gorilla skin then." Jon said irritably.

He had just started ripping in to another pile of boxes when Martin called out to him.

"J-J-Jon, Jon!" Martin called urgently from the other side of the unit.

"What?" Jon asked with a bit of trepidation.

"I think I’ve found it!" Martin told him, his eyes alight with excitement.

"Well, that is obvious." Gerry admitted looking over Martin's shoulder with raised eyebrows.

"W-Wh-What is it?" Jon asked nervously

Melanie made her way over and burst into maniacal laughter at what she saw.

"I think you’re gonna want to see this!" She called to Jon.

Jon got up stiffly from the pile of junk he was sifting through and found himself staring in shock at the boxes of pale grey-green rectangles.

"Good lord! Is… Is that…?" He exclaimed.

"Looks like it." Melanie shrugged.

"Where the hell did she get this? I –Martin, don’t _**touch**_ it!" Jon snapped as Martin reached into to box to grab a rectangle, his eyes glazed with awe.

"Sorry!" He pulled his hand back hastily but continued to stare at the explosives as if hypnotized.

"Is it… stable?" Jon worried.

"How should I know? I don’t even know what kind it is!" Melanie told him.

"I mean, it looks like… C4?" Jon said.

"Are you just saying that because it’s the only plastic explosive you’ve ever heard of?" Melanie asked him accusingly.

"So many others..." Martin said dreamily.

Jon looked over and saw he had opened up several other boxes and was reaching into one.

"M-Martin! Stop trying to _touch_ the plastic explosive!" Jon snapped at him urgently.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." Martin said stepping back from the box with a guilty expression.

"Just put your hands in your pockets, or… something…" Jon scolded him.

Then Melanie noticed the sound of the tape recorder whirling away in Jon's satchel and started laying into him about bringing it, even MArtin was annoyed with him.

Gerry had just been watching them with a amused expression was surprised by their anger.

"Why is the recorder a problem?" Gerry asked.

"They're haunted or something." Melanie told him. "They just show up and turn on by themselves. We don't know if an entity controls them or if Elias can hear them. But for some reason Jon seems to just love them."

"I don't _love_ them, they're just useful." Jon said defensively.

"You are a bit obsessed with them." Martin told him.

"No I'm not." Jon snapped. 

"Well...you were able to follow them back from the Buried, and you constantly record in them, even things that don't need to be recorded on tape necessarily.... and there was that one time you got attacked by worms going back for the tape recorder...." Martin recalled.

"Yes alright." Jon grumbled.

When they got back to the institute Gerry asked to listen to more of the tapes, particularly any that had recorded without anyone turning them on.

Jon was staying away from any statements so Martin spent the day listening to tapes with him. 

After the tape of Daisy taking Jon into the woods to kill him Gerry was shocked that the person on the tape was the same person that followed Jon around meekly all day and teased him fondly about his various eccentricities.

Martin also looked horrified, he had not heard the tape before and had only heard a very glossed over version of events from Jon, who had probably not thought about how upsetting the tape was, just bookmarked it as one that had recorded on it's own.

"Is that the same Daisy?" Gerry asked.

"Yeah." Martin sighed. "I don't know how Jon just forgives people and moves on after things like that." He sighed.

"He went into the Buried to rescue her after she did _that_ to him?" Gerry asked amazed.

"Yeah, well...he thought Melanie was in there at the time too, Elias tricked us into thinking she was." Martin explained.

"Though now that you mention it Melanie had stabbed him just before that as well." Martin mused.

"He seems to make friends with a lot of people who try to kill him." Gerry remarked.

"Yes, it's odd, they always seem to warm up to him _after_ they try to kill him." Martin agreed.

"So Elias manipulated Jon into going into the Buried." Gerry said thoughtfully.

Martin nodded angrily.

"And you think it's for part of the Eye's ritual?"

"Well, that's the theory. Because if he wanted to outright kill Jon surely he could have done that more easily. He just shot Gertrude, no complex plan there. And there were other things, like when we were attacked by the flesh hive, Elias must have known, he could have prevented it, stopped it, warned us. But he didn't. I'm sure when he framed Jon for murder he at least suspected Daisy would try and hunt him down. And he was very keen to hire Melanie for no particular reason I could see, maybe because he knew she had the bullet in her leg that made her volatile, knew she hated Jon, and suspected she would try and hurt him at some point. " Martin explained. 

"Interesting." Gerry said thoughtfully. 

"I just wish Gertrude left more detailed explanations on what the rituals are and how she planned to stop them." Martin sighed.

"Well, maybe she did." Gerry shrugged.

"There are a lot of tapes Gertrude recorded that you still haven't listened too right?" 

"That's true." Martin agreed.

"Gertrude may have been a complete sociopath but she was thorough, and she liked back up plans. Maybe we should focus and listening to her tapes, See if she did leave any instructions." Gerry suggested.

"That's not a bad idea." Martin agreed.

The following week Jon went down to one statement every second day. As soon as he went more than 24 hours he began to get jittery and irritable. He had to force himself to pay attention or would zone out during conversations. He had a constant headache and his hands shook. 

He tried to hide his symptoms from everyone as much as he could. Martin would only fuss over him, of course he would it was Martin. Jon didn't think he could handle being fussed over, he would probably struggle not to snap and Martin didn't deserve that, he was still grieving his mother and had been through a lot. But it was a strain on Jon to keep everything bottled up.

He tried smoking again to see if it would help the cravings but the first puff made him cough so badly he couldn't take a second. It was surprising how much it hurt, his missing ribs throbbed and his lungs burned. It confused him because smoking had never made him cough this much before. 

One day Gerry was chatting with Basira she mentioned the date that Gertrude had died. They had been talking about the plan Gerry and Martin had to listen to all Gertrude's tapes. It was easier said then done, for one thing none of the tapes were labeled, so it was hard to know how old they were or if they were or if they were Gertrude's recordings or just blank. Actually finding the tapes themselves was not easy as they tended to be haphazardly strewn in with paper statements. Jon mentioned Basria had a box of them when she was in the police and he decided to see what had happened to them. 

The date of Gertrude's death rang a bell.

"That's strange it was unrelated because I'm pretty sure that was the day the Dark's weird cult were doing their big ritual in Ny-Ålesund." Gerry remarked.

Which led to Basira deciding they should go to Norway to check out what had happened.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon goes to stop a ritual of the dark while he is still in withdrawal. It goes as well as anyone would expect.

Basira hated boats. She hadn't realized how much she hated boats until she had to take a journey on one, but unfortunately it was the only way to get where they needed to go to check up on the Dark's ritual. She took as much travel calm as is recommended for a 24 hour period but still felt like she wanted to throw up everything she had ever eaten if she so much glanced over the side of the boat. She had been listening to a podcast she enjoyed since reading made the nausea worse, but she had binged too many episodes in a row and felt a little tired of it now. 

Shutting off her phone Basira looked around for Jon. He hadn't been faring all that well either. He was vague and disoriented like he had been on their previous trip. He stubbornly refused to admit he wasn't feeling well but it was obvious from the way he flinched at bright light or loud noise he had a headache. 

Basira couldn't see him and groaned with frustration as she heaved herself from her seat and started looking around the deck for him.

It was raining a fine, cold mist on deck so no one was loitering around out there. Except for Jon of course, he wouldn't be doing something as sensible as keeping warm and dry. Instead he was out in the otherwise empty deck and up to something suspicious. He seemed to be speaking with one of the ships crew. A large burly man who had clearly been on many voyages. Tough and weathered by the elements and the harsh physical labor of his vocation and clearly very strong. Next to this man Jon looked thin and fragile as a matchstick. But as Basira approached and got a better view if their expressions it was very obvious who was the threat and who was the one in danger.

The crew member Jon was speaking with looked uncomfortable, his voice hesitant and strained, like he was stuck speaking about something he preferred to leave alone. 

Jon's face was filled with fascination and raw, unbidden hunger. His eye's had that eerie green glow in their depths and seemed to pin the bigger man in place. Jon's stance was relaxed for the first time since they'd boarded the vessel. He wasn't huddling against the freezing wind and misty drizzle. He looked almost powerful, like a malicious spirit, and he looked as if he was enjoying himself.

"Jon!" Basria snapped angrily.

The smaller man jumped and gasped at the interruption.

"Wh-what?" The sailor asked, looking dazed.

"It's ok." Basira told him. "You can go." 

The man shuffled away eagerly, throwing a confused, unsettled look over his shoulder at the archivist as he left.

"What the hell Jon?" Basira demanded.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I...I didn't..." He stammered looking horrified and guilty. He swallowed hard. The glow had died from his eyes and he looked small and helpless again.

"He had information...I needed to-to _know_." Jon tried to explain. 

He was shaking and huddling against the cold now that the spell was broken. Basira wondered suspiciously if looking pathetic was just something Jon did to appear less threatening. 

"Information about what?" She asked.

"About Mikaele Salesa." Jon told her eagerly. "That man was part of the crew of the..."

"So _not_ about the Unknowing?" Basira cut in .

"Well, no..." Jon admitted, he had been warming up to his explanation but quickly deflated when he saw Basira wasn't buying it.

"And not about the ritual we're looking into now?" She pressed.

"No..." Jon said, fidgeting nervously.

"Not about any potentially world ending rituals or anything relating to our immediate concerns at all?" Basria asked.

"Well...I can't...it's hard to be sure _exactly_ what information will be relevant to..." Jon began.

"Jon." Basira snapped.

"I'm sorry OK!" Jon cried. 

"I was so-so _hungry_ and I couldn't...I didn't mean to..." Jon pleaded with her.

"And now he’s going to see you in his dreams as he relives that for the rest of his life." Basira pointed out.

Jon nodded, looking miserable and defeated.

"If you can't be trusted around other people we are going to have to keep you better contained from now on." Bas hissed at him.

For the next two days Basira kept Jon handcuffed to the handrail or locked in his cabin. He alternated between accepting it and apologizing and complaining about it bitterly. 

"He had information. A lot of times it isn't obvious right away how a story fits with everything else. It might be the key to something important one day." He argued when he was feeling hard done by as Basira secured him to the deck away from the other passengers.

She did it subtly, so he just looked like a person who enjoyed watching the roiling dark ocean. It didn't matter much, no one approached him, the rest of the crew seemed to have been clued in to avoid the pair of them.

"You think Gertrude Robinson was so wonderful, do you think she would have cared about a few nightmares." Jon accused. 

"I thought _you_ cared." Basira told him. "I thought you were trying to stop doing this."

"I do care, I am trying to stop." He told her later when she was locking him in his tiny cabin for the night.

"You're right, I'm sorry I messed up." He told her sadly.

"I was feeling so weak and hungry and there was a statement, a _live statement_ right there, like a perfect meal and I- I was so _hungry_." He sounded genuinely remorseful, but she just couldn't be sure.

Basira was so grateful to be on solid ground again she could have cried. They made their way to the research facility of the People's Church of the Devine Host. It consisted of a e building that seemed to be a offices and a laboratory and a collection of warehouses and storage sheds. 

After speaking with the research staff Jon said he could tell they all genuinely thought they were doing actual, normal research. They went out to the warehouses to check them out. It was a large facility and Basira was tired from the trip. The idea of searching the entire facility seemed daunting but Jon glanced around the structures then confidently pointed one out.

"That's where we need to go." He told her grimly.

It was almost three days since Jon had extracted the statement from that poor shipman and he was beginning to look a bit peaky again. He looked like he had barely slept since the incident and was pale and shaky, huddling in his thick, quilted jacket against the cold and sniffling quietly. 

"You sure?" She asked him approached the building, it looked just as abandoned as the others.

"Yeah." He agreed simply, rummaging in his pocket he pullet put a tape recorder and held it up to show it was recording.

"Tape recorder thinks so, too." He pointed out.

Inside the building appeared empty but then they were attacked by Manuela Dominguez. It was almost laughably easy, Basira thought, Jon Saw Manuela before she got the drop on them and Basira shot her in the shoulder. Then Jon was able to force the whole story out of her. The ritual had already happened and failed. It was already over.

"You said the Dark Sun was still here?" Basira asked Manuela.

"Fine. If you’re so keen to take everything, undo the work of centuries, it’s just through that door." The defeated woman hissed at her.

"Jon?" Basira asked him, he looked a bit nervous but determined. He sighed.

"How dangerous is it?" He asked Manuela.

"Only myself, Maxwell, and Natalie could even look upon it. It will annihilate you both in an instant." Manuela smirked.

"Ask her how we can destroy it." Basira suggested.

"I know how. I just need to see it." Jon told her.

"See as in…?" Basira clarified.

"As in… actually see it." Jon told her.

"Go ahead. Just try." Manuela sneered.

For a beat no one moved. Basira sighed, she might not fully trust Jon but she didn't want him shriveling into nothing trying to destroy this thing. 

"Look, it’s okay, Jon." She told him.

"No one else knows it’s here. And if we just leave it, no one will know." She reasoned.

But he shook his head immediately when she said this.

"No, I – I’m doing it." He told her.

"You should get out."

Basira left Jon to it and stood just outside the door, listening anxiously.

"It’s – It’s _beautiful."_ She heard Jon say.

Then she heard the crackling static that had filled the air since Jon began questioning Manuela grow in volume. It swelled and intensified until she had to clasp her hand over her ears. She faintly heard Manuela scream amongst the cacophony. 

Then all at once the static rushed away and there was only an eerie silence. Basira hesitantly made her way back into the room with Jon and Manuela.

"Jon?" She called out to him, but there was no answer.

He was lying crumbled on the ground. Before she could go to him something shattered and Basira's flashlight died, plunging the room into near total darkness. 

Manuela took this opportunity to leg it and Basira was torn for a moment on whether to give chase or check if Jon was still alive. With a groan of frustration Basira knelt down by the archivist to check his pulse. 

He was alive, his pulse was weak and his breathing shallow but Basira decided that if he was powerful enough to destroy some kind of spooky, magic, dark sun, he was strong enough to heal from this unaided. 

She straightened up and was listening for any sound of Manuela but instead heard the creak of a door opening.

"Helen?" Basira asked

"Is he alive?" The distortion said in response, peering down at Jon's still form curiously.

"Yeah." Basira sighed.

"Did you catch Manuela?"

"She needed a door." Helen agreed.

"How did you find us?" Basira asked.

"Oh, finding this place was _easy_ without the darkness." Helen explained.

"I thought you might like a way home?"

Basira shuddered at the thought of the boat ride home.

"Yes, thank you." She told Helen eagerly.

Back at the archives Daisy and Gerry were playing a game of chess, no one else was around. Martin and Melanie had left for their respective therapy sessions. 

Both Daisy and Gerry looked up at the sound of a door creak open.

"What the hell." Gerry gasped. He hadn't been clued in about the distortion showing up at the archives from time to time.

Helen and Basira stepped out of the hallways supporting Jon between them. They each had an arm of his looped over their shoulder, holding him upright and dragged him over to the break room couch. 

"What happened to him?" Daisy asked anxiously. 

Basira sighed heavily.

"He...I don't know... _ate_ that distinguished sun thing, and it didn't seem to agree with him." Basira explained.

"He ate it?" Gerry asked floating near Jon and looking worried and perplexed.

"I don't know he did that thing with the static and the green eye glow." Basira shrugged, she looked to be at the end of what she could deal with for one day.

"Look I'm done, I just...I need to not be around supernatural bullshit for a bit, I have to go." She told them.

"But..." Daisy gestured helplessly at Jon's still form.

"He'll be fine." Basira snapped. 

"He's always fine." 

"She's not wrong." Helen said cheerfully from the doorway she'd made her way back to.

Gerry glared at her suspiciously.

"Michael says hi by the way." Helen told him with a casual wave of her fingers and disappeared before Gerry could ask any questions.

"He feels way too cold." Daisy told Gerry worriedly. 

Gerry frowned down at Jon's slack face. He was alarmingly still and pale. His eyelids looked bruised and his lips were tinged blue. He looked dead, Gerry thought.

She had pulled open Jon's quilted jacket to get a better look at him. His skin felt cold to touch but he was breathing, though it was scarily shallow.

Daisy shook Jon gently and patted his face, trying to get a response from him.

"Jon, wake up, can you hear me?" She asked him.

His eyelashes fluttered a little but he didn't wake.

"He needs to go to the hospital." Gerry said hesitantly. He wasn't sure how on board with hospitals this group of people were. But Daisy agreed immediately. She pulled him up and leaned him against her chest, loop an arm under his legs and around his shoulders so she could lift him bridal style but when she tried to stand her legs gave out.

"Shit." She hissed, before the Buried she would have been strong enough to lift him easily. 

"Ambulance?" Gerry offered. 

Daisy made an irritated sound. 

"Emergency services can be hesitant about coming down here." She muttered.

"We'll at least need to get him upstairs."

She tried calling Martin but his phone was switched off, probably meaning he was still in his grief counselling session.

"I have an idea." Daisy told the ghost. She pulled Jon closer against herself, trying to warm him with her body heat.

"Can you go upstairs and find Tim Stoker? He used to work here and was close with Jon, he might help."

Luckily Tim was in his office. The door was locked but Gerry just phased through it.

"Are you Tim?" He asked.

Tim jumped, not having expected a visitor. Certainly not expecting a stranger, dressed as a goth to get into his office without alerting him.

"How did you get in here?" Tim snapped.

He didn't recognize the man as an institute employee, he was sure he would have noticed that die job. Almost jarringly black with a good inch of dirty blond roots showing through.

"Never mind about that now. I need help, it's urgent." Gerry told him. 

Tim felt nervous when he noticed there was something odd and echoing about his voice.

The stranger in his office had a serious, intense face, only highlighted by the black eyeliner thickly ringing his eyes and dark lipstick.

"I'm sure I locked the door." Tim said frowning suspiciously.

"You did." Gerry agreed with a sigh.

"But I'm a ghost so..." He added blandly, phasing his hand through the door to demonstrate. 

Tim blanched and moved back alarmed, almost falling out of his office chair.

"I need you to hold off freaking out about it though because Jon needs your help." Gerry urged him, gesturing for him to follow.

"What? Who are you?" Tim demanded.

"I'm Gerard Keay." Gerry told him.

Tim started at him, stunned. Now that he thought about it the ghost did look like the descriptions of Gerard Keay from statement givers. 

"But how..." Was as far as he got before Gerry disappeared through his door.

Tim got up and followed the ghost out into the hallway.

"Wait!" Tim snapped.

"Freaking out and explanations are both going to have to wait." Gerry told him. 

"Jon needs help."

"Jon always needs help." Tim argued stubbornly crossing his arms.

Gerry glared at him.

"Daisy said you were his friend." Gerry accused.

"I...it's complicated." Tim sighed.

"Yeah well, he's barely breathing, do you care about that or not?" Gerry snapped.

"Christ, alright I'm coming." Tim said alarmed, following the ghost down to the archives.

Daisy still had Jon cradled against her, trying to rub warmth back into his limp arm. 

"How is he?" Gerry asked.

"The same." Daisy told him, her face creased with worry. 

"Can you help us get him up to my car?" She asked Tim.

"I'm taking him to A&E."

Tim wordlessly scooped Jon out of Daisy's lap and into his own arms. He was frighteningly limp.

"What happened?" Tim asked as he carried Jon.

"We're not sure." Daisy told him.

"He came back from investigating a ritual of the Dark and was like this." Gerry added.

"Basira might know more, she was with him, I messaged her but she isn't getting back to me." Daisy told them.

When they got to Daisy's car Tim carefully placed Jon's lax form in the back seat. He looked at his friends face, trying not to think about how corpse like he looked.

"Hang in there boss." He told Jon softly, then turned to leave.

"You're not coming?" Gerry asked.

"I can't." Tim said firmly.

"Because you are too busy aligning yourself with the Lonely?" Gerry asked bitterly.

"Not now." Daisy told the ghost.

"We don't have time to argue with him." 

She met Tim's eyes.

"Even if he is being a moron." She added, then they drove away.

By the time Martin arrived Jon had already been admitted. He found Daisy and Gerry in the waiting room, looking awkward and worried. Gerry was trying not to touch anything or anyone so as not to give away that he was intangible. 

"Is he alright? What happened?" Martin asked as he joined them.

"We're still not sure what happened." Daisy told him. "But Jon is stable now, they are doing some tests, we'll know more soon." 

Martin looked so worried, Gerry floated over to him.

"He was hypothermic when we bought him in, but they warmed him up, he's already doing much better." Gerry told him consolingly.

"I wish he would just...stay safe." Martin said exasperated.

"Just for five minutes!" He rubbed his face with his hands, leaving his glasses askew, Gerry wished he could straighten them.

"He'll be alright." Daisy told him, like she was trying to reassure herself as well.

Eventually a doctor came and led them through to see Jon. He was lying in a hospital bed, looking tiny and frail with tubes feeding him fluids and oxygen and measuring various vital signs. His eyes were shut and looked positively sunken with exhaustion, his breathing was so shallow it was almost undetectable. 

Martin tenderly brushed a strand of hair from Jon's face.

"Jon, I'm here, are you alright?" He stoked Jon's cheek gently.

"Can you hear me love?" He asked the sleeping man softly.

Jon's eyelashes fluttered a little and he made a faint humming sound but didn't fully wake.

"He probably won't wake up for a while." The doctor told Martin.

"His blood pressure and oxygen levels are very low, we are working on it but, well, it would help us treat him if you could provide us with any more information about how he came to be in this state." The doctor continued.

"It's a little baffling to be honest."

"I don't know." Martin said, bringing to tear up a little.

"Can you tell us what's wrong with him?" Daisy asked.

"Well, his body temperature was dangerously low when he was bought in, we've been warming him up slowly, but it was one of the worse cases of hypothermia I've seen, which frankly makes no sense for this time of year." The doctor paused waiting for an explanation but the three people just stared at him expectantly so he continued.

"He is also extremely anemic, I would recommend an iron transfusion as soon as his temperature is back to normal. I see in his records he recently came in to be treated for a bad cut that saw him loose a lot of blood, I don't think he's ever quite recovered. He's a little malnourished in general actually." The doctor told them.

Martin looked devastated.

The doctor looked a little hesitant to bring up the next point. 

"He also has pleurisy, an inflammation of the outer lining of the lungs, it was probably caused by the...uh removal...of...well...I'm not sure if..." The doctor hesitated to say.

"Oh the ribs he had removed?" Martin asked. 

The doctor looked relieved at not having to explain. 

"After something like that he should have been getting regular check ups and breathing treatments. Injuries to the ribcage often lead to lung infections otherwise." The doctor scolded.

"He's probably had a lot of chest pain and shortness of breath for some time." The doctor told them. 

"Oh poor thing! He never said anything about it." Martin said sadly.

"Will he be alright?" Daisy asked.

"We have started him on treatment for the pleurisy, it will take time and rest and care for him to recover." The doctor said, not answering the question directly.

Once they left Martin sat down next to Jon and took his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"I should never have let you go on that stupid trip." Martin sighed.

"You couldn't have stopped him." Daisy told Martin sympathetically.

The three of them stayed the night, keeping vigil, but Jon didn't wake, and if anything got worse, his temperature climbed up past normal and then too far in the other direction, His breath rattled and strained. 

Martin realized he was probably still going through withdrawal and called Melanie and asked her to bring statements to the hospital.

"I thought he wanted to give them up?" Melanie hedged.

"He's too sick to worry about that right now." Martin told her.

There was a beat of silence on the other line that made Martin grit his teeth with irritation.

"Basira said he attacked someone." Melanie told him eventually.

Martin saw red.

"Oh my god Melanie that's _awful!_ Attacking someone! fancy that! How _horrible_ , definitely shouldn't help him then should we." Martin hissed at the phone.

"OK you made your point." Melanie said sulkily.

But Martin was on a rampage and eventually Daisy had to wrestle the phone off him.

"Are you still there?" Daisy asked Melanie, Martin was now sitting back down next to Jon, taking slow steadying breaths, Gerry was staring at him, impressed and a bit shocked.

"Yes." Melanie said tersely.

"Bring a bunch of statements, I'll meet you in lobby." Daisy told her, then hung up before Melanie could argue.


	28. Chapter 28

Daisy met Melanie in the lobby of the hospital. She looked sulky and petulant and Daisy hoped this didn't mean she hadn't bought any statements. Georgie was with her, looking worried.

"Did you bring them?" Daisy asked.

Melanie sighed.

"I did but.., look we just want to be sure this is the right thing to do." Melanie said stiffly.

"Jon wanted to quit." Georgie agreed. "Are you sure this is what he wants?" 

"He's barely breathing." Daisy told them bluntly.

Georgie looked alarmed.

"Basira thinks he might be faking it so he looks harmless." Melanie said stubbornly.

"Did you bring the statements or not." Daisy asked harshly.

"I did." Melanie said reaching into her sachet and bringing out a stack of manila files reluctantly.

Daisy snatched them and turned to leave.

"How are you sure you are right?" Melanie called after her.

Daisy turned and glared at Melanie.

"To be honest I don't actually care if he's a monster or not, he's my friend and right now he needs my help." She turned to leave again.

Georgie ran after her.

"Wait. Can we see him?" Georgie asked.

Daisy turned back to them and fixed them with a look. 

"Only if you promise not to antagonize Martin." Daisy said looking pointedly at Melanie. 

"He's under enough stress."

Melanie spluttered indignantly.

"Melanie will be on her best behavior." Georgie told Daisy firmly.

Daisy seemed to accept this.

She led the two women back to Jon's room.

Martin was asleep on a chair by Jon's bed. Gerry was hovering on the opposite side of Jon to Martin.

Jon was still yet to wake. 

Melanie's expression changed when she saw him. 

"Shit he does look convincingly terrible." She admitted. 

His eyes were still bruised and sunken with exhaustion.

"He hasn't really seemed well since I first met him." Gerry told them, he had pointed this out a few times and been dismissed, it was a hollow victory to be proven correct.

"Will he be alright?" Georgie asked.

Daisy shrugged.

"Let's see if a statement helps."

Daisy opened a folder and started reading a statement aloud to Jon. He didn't wake but the ragged, rattling of his breathing evened out and seemed softer, and more relaxed. 

Martin woke up just as Daisy was finishing the first statement. He rubbed his eyes and glared at Melanie and Georgie when he noticed them.

"I bought statements." Melanie said defensively.

"We're sorry Martin." Georgie told him.

"I didn't know withdrawal would make him this sick." 

"It's not just the withdrawal." Martin told her.

"It's all of it. Getting stabbed, going into the Buried, being stressed _all the time_ , having two of his ribs torn out of his body, whatever the hell that dark sun did to him." Martin told them.

"It's too much for one person. And no one ever seems to remember he's a person." Martin started crying a little.

Melanie shuffled awkwardly. Georgie went to hug him, but he pushed her away, refusing to be consoled.

Daisy handed him a second statement.

"Here, I think the first one helped a little." She told him.

Martin nodded and took the folder and began to read.

Jon was swimming through very deep, dark, cold water. He wasn't sure where he was. He didn't think it was the ocean because the water was too still and there was no sting of salt. A very deep lake? He could, it seemed, breath the water, but it hurt and didn't feel very satisfying, his head still swam dizzily with the longing for oxygen. 

And it was cold. So cold his bones ached. It reminded him of an incident from his childhood where he had fallen in a pond while out exploring one winter afternoon. The icy water had been so sudden and shocking. Then everything either hurt or felt numb, it was a disorienting feeling and made him aware of his body in a way he never really had been before. 

He felt this way now as he struggled to pull his tired, aching body along in the inky black water. 

He heard Daisy's voice, rippling through the darkness. She was feeding him a story, a statement of woman who's obsession with perfection and body modification had led her into the domain of the Flesh. He could feel this woman's fear, stale and tasteless compared to Floyd's recent live statement, but still giving him strength. He tried to move towards Daisy's voice but before he got close the story ended.

Jon floated for a moment, unsure which way to go, unsure even which way was up. Just as he was beginning to despair Martin's voice started up, another statement, this one of the Spiral, but not Michael or Helen for once, an unrelated branch. A person who spent much of their time online under a series of false identities, they were led to believe first that all of their identities were real, then that none of them were, then that nobody was. 

Then Gerry's voice replaced Martin's with a story of Slaughter. The three voices cycled through horrifying tales until Jon was finally able to orient himself and break the surface of the icy, black water. He opened his eyes. The room was so bright he immediately closed them again with a hiss of pain.

"Jon?" Martin's worried voice prompted him to force his heavy lids open again, squinting against the light. He guessed from the sharp, bright white of the room and the smell of antiseptic that he was in hospital.

"S'too bright." He complained, his voice just a weak rasp.

There was a sharp click and the painful light dimmed to a manageable level. 

His vision was blurring and in the dim light he could barely make out Martin's worried face. But he felt Martin's strong, warm arms slip around his boney shoulders and gently help him sit up. Jon felt blissfully grateful to feel cool water against his lips. Martin was holding a glass for him to drink. His throat burned but he doubted he had the strength to hold a glass himself. Just swallowing the water seemed to take all the strength he had. His head pounded and his chest felt like it was stabbed through with knives.

He was ashamed to see how worried Martin clearly was about him. He was supposed to be taking care of Martin right now. But instead he had ended up in hospital again somehow, he felt so weak just drinking a glass of water exhausted him and he needed to lie down again.

"I'm sorry." He told Martin.

Martin was easing him back into a more comfortable, position. He smirked a bit at the apology. 

"If you are apologizing for hiding how ill you have been feeling then you are not forgiven but we will talk about it later." Martin told him planting a kiss on his forehead to soften the reprimand.

"But if you are apologizing for being a monster, or being a burden or some other such nonsense, well you should know by now that it isn't necessary." Martin scolded him gently.

"I...hurt someone." Jon told Martin, his voice slurring a little with exhaustion. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Hush, don't worry about it now." Martin told him.

"Sounded like he was a jerk anyway." Dasiy said.

Jon blinked hard and struggled to look around for her, he hadn't noticed she was there. 

He saw Gerry was there too and felt even more guilt, Gerry hadn't turned down moving on to the afterlife so he could float around a hospital room.

"Yeah, he was smuggling cursed artifacts knowing full well they could kill people." Gerry agreed. 

"Not like he was some innocent flower."

Jon wondered blearily how they knew about Floyd.

"How?" Jon asked. He didn't have enough energy for the full question but they got what he was asking.

"Basira showed us the tape." Daisy explained.

"You've been out of it for four days." Gerry added.

Jon sighed wearily, he wished he would stop losing time. 

"You read....me...statements?" He asked them.

"Yes, you weren't doing well, but he statements seemed to help. The more we read you the stronger you got." Gerry told him.

"I don't think you should try quitting again." Daisy told him firmly.

"You did." Jon told her weakly.

"Our situations aren't the same." Daisy said simply. 

Jon wanted to ask more questions about the past few days but he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. 

He drifted back tot sleep. Relieved he did not go back into the black water but just his usual dreams of other peoples encounter's with the supernatural. He drifted through anatomy class and into the misty graveyard. When he found himself watching Georgie, laid out on the floor like a corpse, she looked up at him with relief instead of the usual disappointment.

"Does this mean you are feeling better?" She asked him.

He couldn't answer, he could talk in these dreams. 

Jon woke up to the sound of Martin's voice. He was speaking with someone Jon didn't recognize, presumably a nurse, so he just went back to sleep.

He woke up again later to Martin soothing him and thumbing tears from his cheeks from a nightmare he already couldn't remember.

"It's alright love, you're safe." Martin told him.

Jon tried to sit up but found he still wasn't strong enough. He growled low in his throat with frustration.

"S'posed to be...looking after you." He slurred, his mouth felt like marble, it was hard to form words.

Martin shushed him. Stroking his hair and cupping his cheek.

"Just get well, I don't care about anything else." Martin told him firmly.

Jon used his remaining strength to squeeze Martin's hand, then he was drifting again. Julia and Trevor glared furiously at him from a pool of dark water, the exterminator writhed under a blanket of millions of ants.

He woke up to Gerry's voice, reading a statement. Georgie was holding the pages up for him to read. 

"Feeling any better?" Gerry asked when the statement ended. 

Jon nodded weakly.

"Good, then maybe you can stay awake long enough to eat some actual food." Georgie told him.

Jon was able to sit up but had to let Georgie spoon feed him, his hands shook too badly to hold a spoon. He barely got through half the bowl before he was out again.

The next time he woke Basira was there, staring at him like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve.

"I have to admit, if this is an act it's convincing." She told him.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly but she just shook her head.

"We'll talk about it when you're able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time." She told him. 

It took a few more days of just sleeping and eating for Jon to be well enough to sit up and have a conversation. 

"I wasn't trying to hide anything from you." Jon told Martin when his boyfriend deemed him well enough to be scolded about hiding how ill he was.

Martin scoffed.

"Ok maybe a bit, at first at least, your mother had just died, I didn't want to...pull focus." He admitted.

"With your untreated and serious medical conditions, no, of course, very reasonable." Martin rolled his eyes.

"They didn't seem that bad." Jon grumbled.

"Then I just thought it was the withdrawal." He explained. "Partly it was, I think for better or worse the statements give me power, and without them I can't stand up to all the other entities, all the horrible things I have to go through."

Martin took his hand gently.

"Please Jon, you don't have to fight all the horror's in the world, you've done enough, let someone else deal with it for awhile." Martin implored him.

"Who?" Jon asked skeptically.

"I don't know, anyone." Martin said exasperated. "Georgie was right when she said it shouldn't all be up to us. It's absurd."

It didn't matter whether he agreed or not Jon was still much too weak to be doing anything other than resting. He was discharged but with strict instructions for bed rest and regular check ups. He could barely walk unaided and had to lean heavily on Martin. If he tried to stay awake for more than an hour or so at a time he would get a migraine or a run a fever. He slept most of the day and only woke to read statements or eat or use the bathroom. 

He hated it. But he did enjoy that for the time being responsibility had been rather forcefully taken from him, and he got to spend a lot of quiet, peaceful time with Martin, dozing propped up against the larger man's chest while Martin wrote poetry or watched things on his laptop.

Gerry often came to hang out with them too. He had never been allowed to watch television as a child so was fascinated by Netflix and YouTube. He binge watched series with Martin that Jon would complain about when he woke up at random intervals. Criticizing the plot or acting or general premise but quickly insisting it was fine when they suggested they change the channel.

Gerry was still trying to get through Gertrude's tapes and tapes that recorded by themselves. It was fascinating listening but with Martin only coming in to the archives as infrequently as he could get away with Gerry was not always able to find someone to dig through archives and play tapes for him. To fill in time he took to haunting Tim as well.

Gerry liked Tim. He seemed to Gerry to be a fun, energetic and compassionate person who had gotten caught up in some bullshit and was on a rapid path to destruction. He would float through Tim's office door when he was alone to mess up his insistence on being alone.

"Gerry, I am saying this with as much respect as I am still capable off in your regard... please fuck off." Tim begged him when Gerry floated in to hear Tim read an extinction statement.

"I'm just taking an active interest in the planet like a concerned citizen of Earth." Gerry said innocently.

"no you are not, you are trying to mess with me." Tim accused.

"I know, I am the KING of messing with people, I know what you are doing." 

But despite Tim's insistence Gerry could tell he secretly loved the interruption, he longed for the company. Tim was just not the sort to align themselves with the lonely without pushing themselves. And it was clearly a struggle for him. 

One day Gerry was listening to one of the tapes Basira had retrieved from the police and found an account of Gertrude confirming their suspicions, that Elias was trying to perform a ritual, that it involved the archivist and that she had decided to destroy the archives to stop it.


	29. Chapter 29

Tim sighed in annoyance as Gerry floated into his office through the locked door.

"I know, I know, you have to save us all from a new, unspeakable evil and have to do it alone. You're batman. I get it." Gerry said holding his pale hands up in a placating gesture.

"But we are all meeting in the tunnels to talk about something important and I think you should come."

Tim sighed again.

"You know I can't." He scolded Gerry.

"Come on Tim, we all need to compile what we know, everyone is going to be there, even Jon." Gerry told him. Jon had not been into the archives for weeks.

"He's back at work?" Tim asked surprised.

"No." Gerry told him regretfully.

"He's still too weak, he can't even handle a flight of stairs, Martin has to carry him. It's kind of adorable actually." Gerry mused.

"Jon acts like he hates it of course, but he always kind of snuggles into Martin, I think he secretly loves being carted about."

Tim fought a fond smile and kept his face neutral.

"I still can't come." He insisted.

"We all need to compare notes or we could miss something important." Gerry argued. 

"No." Tim snapped. "Stop nagging me, you know why I am staying away from them all."

Tim glared furiously at his computer screen and tried to will the ghost away.

"I do know Tim." Gerry told him, he floated over to sit on Tim's desk, sitting so that Tim's screen was basically inside him and therefore making it impossible for Tim to continue to read.

"But I found out some things that will be important for what you are trying to achieve as well." Gerry implored Tim. 

"OK fine." Tim grouched, scowling at Gerry's smug grin of triumph. 

"If you promise to stay out of my office." Tim bargained. 

Gerry scoffed.

"Whatever." He said airily. It wasn't like Tim could keep him out after all.

Jon was out of breath by the time he made it down to the tunnels under the institute. It was more walking than he had done in a long time and his legs felt like jelly. He felt pathetic but was glad, at least, that he had been able to walk and not had to resort to letting Martin carry him. Though he had leaned on the man for support for most of the trip. 

Martin helped ease him into a chair and asked him quietly if he needed his inhaler. Jon declined, he did feel out of breath but thought just sitting down for a moment would let him catch his breath. He didn't want to make more of a spectacle of himself than necessary. 

Everyone else was already there, including Tim.

"You're here!" Jon marveled when he saw his long absent friend.

""Yeah well, you freed this evil goth spirit from a cursed book and now it won't leave me the fuck alone so I don't have much of a choice." Tim muttered.

Gerry smirked and looked pleased with himself.

In reality Tim was struggling to keep his face neutral. He was overwhelmed with relief to see Jon alive and awake. He looked like a gust of wind might nock him over but still, he was there. And seeing Martin for the first time since his mother had died. He looked worn from stress but seemed stronger, more confident and sure of himself. 

To begin with Basira played the tape of Gertrude's that Gerry had found, that confirmed Elias was trying to perform a ritual and Jon was part of it.

"We need to decide what to do about this." Basira said wen the tape was done.

"seemed pretty obvious to me." Melanie said eagerly.

"We should burn down the achieves."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Jon said frowning.

"You can't burn down the achieves." Tim said at the same time.

"Why not?" Melanie scowled.

"They are an important resource, the Beholding isn't the only entity making a play for power at the moment. What if the key to stopping the unknowing is in the achieves and we burn them down before we work out how to stop it?" Jon pointed out.

"I thought we had agreed the C4 would stop the unknowing?" Melanie argued.

"C4?" Tim asked alarmed.

"Yeah we have plastic explosives. A _lot_ of plastic explosives." Martin told him with an almost manic glint of excitement in his eyes. 

"We don't know how Gertrude planned to use them though, and even if it is just a matter of blowing them up, we don't know where or when the ritual is happening." Jon pointed out.

"Why don't you want to destroy the achieves?" Melanie asked Tim, she had been sure he would be on board.

"I need them, they are part of Peter's plan to see what's happening with the Extinction." Tim told her.

"Another part of the plan is to kill Elias so I wouldn't worry about his ritual too much." Tim added.

"Yes!" Melanie's eye's lit up.

"Tim how could you not include me in a plan like that?" She asked.

"I can't involve _anyone_. I need to be aligned with the Lonely for it to work, so I need all of you to leave me alone." Tim told them.

"Including you." He snapped at Gerry. 

Gerry huffed and crossed his arms. 

"You're not expecting to come out of this are you?" Jon asked him softly.

Tim shrugged.

"Dammit Tim." Jon scowled. 

Tim tried not to meet his eyes, he wanted to keep up his front, but then he saw Martins face and very nearly los this composure. Martin looked devistated.

"Tim please, I can't lose anyone else." Martin told him brokenly.

"You don't get it do you?" Tim told them both harshly.

"None of us are getting out of this." He said bitterly.

"You think we'll all die when Elias does?" Basira asked.

"No I think that's bullshit." Tim scoffed.

"But I do think that we have all been caught up in this..." He struggled to explain it and just waved his hand around gesturing to the tunnels and the institute above. 

"We all made bad choices, or had bad luck, or both, whatever, the point is there is no way out now. Best we can hope for is to get our revenge before we die." Tim told them.

"Well excuse us for trying to survive." Melanie hissed at him, not impressed.

"Dying isn't the worst thing that could happen Tim." Daisy told him anxiously. 

"You could get trapped somewhere you can never die, what if you get trapped in the Lonely?"

"At least there will be less paperwork." Tim snapped, then turned and began to march away.

"Wait Tim." Martin called and ran after him.

"Martin I just told you.." Tim growled at him.

"I know, I'll leave you alone I just want you to promise me you will try to live if you can. I'm not going to stop you going ahead with your plan. But please, try and come back afterwards if it's possible. Please?" Martin implored him.

Tim sighed, Martin looked so overwrought, so brokenhearted he couldn't say no.

"OK." He agreed,

"Promise?" Martin asked.

"Yes Martin, I promise I will try and survive the plan if possible." Tim sighed.

Martin didn't look relieved but he did seem satisfied by the answer.

When Martin returned to the rest of the group he found they were still arguing about what to do.

"I'm not going to just sit around twiddling my thumbs waiting for Tim to carry out his plan." Basira said angrily.

"We should at least have a back up plan in place." Daisy agreed.

"Like burning down the archives!" Melanie said then grinned wickedly when this made Jon scowl.

"Also we need to talk about what happened on the trip to Norway." Basira sighed.

"Yes." Martin agreed glaring at her. "You can't take Jon on anymore trips if you're not going to take care of him." Martin accused.

"I don't need taking care of." Jon said indignantly.

Martin tutted at him.

"Are you really even going to try and argue that?." He asked incredulously.

"Fine no more eating powerful ritual objects." Basira said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Agreed." Jon mumbled.

"What? no!" Martin snapped.

"No putting Jon in excessive danger just to get information." Martin corrected.

"I never told him to eat the dark sun." Basira argued.

"Jon is the one who puts himself in danger. He met up with all those other avatars on his own terms, he went into the Buried against our advice, and the Spiral, and he decided to visit the Boneturner, no one made him do anything." She pointed out.

"I had to do those things, I needed to find out more information somehow, and I needed to destroy the dark sun, otherwise some poor sap would have happened on it eventually and been obliterated." Jon grumbled.

"Well can you please stop doing things like that? See this is what I mean about him needing to be taken care of, he has no ability for self preservation." Martin said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Jon pouted.

"Anyway that's not what I wanted to talk about." Basira told them.

"We need to make sure you don't feed on anyone else like you did to that ship hand." Basira informed Jon.

"We can't let you feed on anymore innocent people." 

Martin spluttered angrily.

"That guy was hardly innocent, he smuggled cursed artifacts." Gerry scoffed.

"So he deserves to have Jon haunting his dreams for the rest of his life? " Basira demanded.

Gerry shrugged and held his hands up like they were a set of scales.

"Smuggle cursed items that you know could kill and traumatize people..." He said moving his left hand up and down slightly.

"...Get cursed to relive your traumatic experience over and over in your dreams." Gerry said wavering his right hand in a similar manor.

"Yeah that actually seems kind of poetic. People so rarely get what they deserve." Gerry finished.

"Gerry..." Jon broke in, looking ashamed of himself.

"I-I didn't chose Floyd because I knew he deserved it. I was hungry and he had a statement. It could have been anyone, it could have been someone really vulnerable." Jon sighed.

"Then we shouldn't let you get hungry like that again." Daisy told him.

"If you read regular statements you won't get desperate and drag them out of people." She insisted.

"You sure you want to give up on quitting though?" Melanie asked hesitantly.

"I feel so much better now I'm not aligned to the slaughter, quitting statements could be the only way for you to get away from the eye." Melanie pointed out.

"Daisy is right, I wouldn't be safe." Jon told her.

"Maybe if we locked you up while you are going through the withdrawal?" Basira suggested.

"You psychopath." Martin hissed at Basira.

"Jon just got out of the hospital, he is still so weak he can barely walk by himself and your talking about locking him up? putting him through withdrawal?" Martin yelled, he turned red with anger but seemed unable to form words after this.

"We would wait until he is stronger obviously." Basira sighed.

"No." Daisy said firmly.

"You managed it." Basira argued. 

"You were hardly in good shape when you came out of the Buried and you managed to survive without hunting." Basira pointed out.

"I'm dying." Daisy told her.

Basira looked stunned.

"What? No you're not, don't be stupid, you're doing well." Basira argued.

"No. I'm dying, I don't know how long I have but I can feel it, if I won't hunt I'll die, and I _won't_ hunt." She said with certainty.

"Daisy..." Basira began, but then seemed unsure what to say.

"It's alright, I'm OK with it. I'd prefer it to going back to what I was. I just want to enjoy the life I have left." Daisy said simply.

"We can talk about it later but you need to understand that quitting means death when you have reached a certain point, and I'm pretty sure Jon has passed that point. At least he has a way of feeding that doesn't hurt anyone." Daisy shrugged.

In the end they all agreed that Jon should be provided with as many written statements as he wanted but should not be allowed to take any more live statements unless it was another avatar. And he should avoid being alone in public incase he met someone with a statement and couldn't resist the temptation. 

Martin took Jon home afterwards, Gerry went with them.

"Thanks for standing up for him." Martin told Gerry as he tucked Jon into bed. The brief outing had exhausted Jon to the point of delirium and he was barely coherent for the entire trip back, falling asleep in Martin's arms when he carried him up the stairs to their apartment.

"Of course." Gerry told Martin. 

"I'm sorry, that was all really upsetting for you." Gerry sympathized.

"It was but...well, when Daisy said she was dying because she quit hunting, when she said Jon will likely die if he doesn't have statements...I guess I knew that but..."

"Having it spelled out is kind of brutal." Gerry guessed.

"It means we can never really be free of the institute." Martin sighed.

"I know we are trapped, I know we'll probably never get away. But it's nice to dream you know? But no matter what happens Jon will always need statements to feed, so we'll never really be able to get away, even if we do win." Martin told the ghost.

"I feel bad even complaining about this to you." Martin admitted.

"You are literally dead and intangible and tied to a page of a book and you complain less than me!" He groaned.

Gerry laughed.

"It's alright, I want to know how you are feeling, you don't have to pretend to be alright on my account." Gerry assured him.

"Anyway I am getting used to it, and I don't feel as bad, it isn't as painful now that I have more freedom."

Later when Martin was also asleep he floated at the foot of their bed, watching them and thinking. Martin had left an old Ipod of music Gerry liked playing so if Gerry wanted to listen to music he could put his head into the headphones. He also set up an old phone with a bunch of podcasts Gerry might like incase he got bored of music. It was so thoughtful. Gerry wasn't used to people caring for him. It made Gerry wish he could hug Martin so badly the pain of his death stung with missed opportunity. Gerry had found Martin's progression from being jealous of him to doting on him like he was an orphan kitten very endearing. Now as he looked at the sleeping faces of his two friends he felt fiercely protective. 

Gerry knew watching them sleep was probably a bit creepy but he found it soothing. Martin's face was angelic in sleep, so relaxed and peaceful, he was still and calm all night. Jon was the complete opposite. He was such a restless sleeper, he flailed about and changed position constantly. When they first went to bed they had been neatly tucked in to their own sides of the bed, then Jon had sought Martin out in his sleep, burrowing into Martin's side for warmth. Then this apparently wasn't enough and Jon hooked one arm over Martin as well. Then one leg. Then he must have got too hot because he rolled away again and nearly fell off the mattress, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed. 

Gerry was determined to find a way out for his friends. He hoped he would find it in Gertrude's tapes.

One day at the institute Gerry had just finished listening to a tape and was waiting for Daisy to come back from the breakroom to put another on for him when he heard a door creak open.

"What do you want?" Gerry asked wearily.

"I wanted to say hello, it's been a long time." The Michael distortion told him, standing in the doorway of an impossible yellow door.

Gerry scowled at them intruder.

"I don't know how you managed to trick these people into trusting you but I'm not about to again." He told them angrily.

"I don't want to hurt them, I want to help the assistants, I only wanted to kill the archivist." Michael said somewhat petulantly. 

"Jon isn't like Gertrude." Gerry told the distortion angrily.

"I know, I wanted to kill him so the Eye won't win, but now I'm not so sure, and now Helen is me as well and she wants the eye to win, it's very confusing." Michael sighed.

Daisy returned carrying a cup of tea and hobbling awkwardly on her weak legs. 

"Oh... hello, you're Michael right?" Daisy asked.

The distortion looked strangely upset and disturbed by this question.

"Sometimes I think I am?" It answered, unsure.

"Riiight." Daisy said.

Michael slowly retreated and shut the door.

"Was that Michael?" Melanie asked eagerly peering into the room.

"I wanted to thank them but never got the chance."

"Yeah I guess so." D aisy told her.

"Why do you trust the distortion?" Gerry asked them testily.

"They have been helpful." Melanie shrugged. 

"Michael got that ghost bullet out of my leg and Helen has helped us out loads of times." She elaborated.

Gerry didn't look convinced.

"They also did some kind of messed up stuff though right?" Daisy asked. She didn't know the distortion, it had not been around much before she was in the Buried.

"Didn't it kidnap Jon one time?"

"Well yes." Melanie agreed.

"But that was because Michael had some beef with Archivists, but Helen seems pretty fond of Jon, and they both saved our lives when he flesh attacked." 

"You shouldn't trust it." Gerry told them seriously.

"I'm pretty sure it killed me."

"It gave you a brain tumor?" Melanie asked.

"I don't know if it gave it to me or just trapped me in it's hallways until the cancer was too far advanced to be treated... but I do know it pretended to be my friend, gained my trust then when I was foolish enough to go into the hallways I was trapped for weeks, maybe months. By the time I came out I was terminally ill. Nothing could be done."

"That's why you didn't have ay treatment." Melanie said sadly.

"I was traveling with Gertrude but I got a lead on a Leitner and Michael suggested they could take me too it then back again before Gertrude even noticed. I didn't tell Gertrude we had become friends, I knew she would disapprove. " Gerry sighed.

"I'm sorry Gerry." Melanie told him.

Though this development did make everyone more hesitant to trust the distortion it wasn't like there was much they could do to stop it showing up whenever it felt like.

After a few more days of rest Jon was able to come back to work, but he only worked half days at first and still tired easily and got migraines and dizzy spells. 

In his first week back at work Melanie had happened on him coming into the archives with a heavy looking box. He was trembling and seemed like he might drop the box at any moment so she quickly went over a took it from him and put it aside on a desk.

"Honestly Jon, if you need help with..." She began scolding him but trailed of when she saw how unfocussed his expression was, all the blood had drained from his face leaving his dark skin looking ashen.

"Jon?" She asked him.

"Going to faint." He told her, his voice wavering. 

Melanie wasn't sure she was strong enough to carry him so she quickly looped his arm over her shoulder to take most of his weight and led him over to the breakroom couch just in time for him to pass out. Once she had him laying down she got him a small bottle of orange juice from the vending machine.

Jon was just blinking awake again when she returned and shoved the juice bottle in his face demanding he drink it.

"Melanie, I'm sorry I thought I was feeling up to getting that box of statements from Elias's office but it was..." Jon began to explain.

"Shut up and drink the juice." Melanie scolded him.

Jon sighed and drank the juice, fighting not to show how much he disliked the taste so as not to further anger her.

"Better?" She asked when he was done drinking.

"Yes, thankyou." He told her.

"I think I can go back to my office now." He added.

"OK, I'll get that box for you." She told him.

When he thanked her for setting the box down in his office Melanie scowled at him.

"Jon you have to ask us for help with these things, you could have hurt yourself if you fainted on the stairs carrying this."

"I know, it's just embarrassing to have to ask for help all the time." Jon grumbled.

"More embarrassing than passing out all over the archives." Melanie asked.

Jon huffed.

"I guess not." He admitted.

He was slowly getting stronger though and after two weeks of taking it easy was able to return to full time work. But he was forbade to work overtime or go on any dangerous missions. 

One afternoon he was having a tea break with Martin and Melanie when Gerry suddenly appeared in the room wide eyed with panic. 

"Tim needs our help, Elias is killing him!" Gerry told them.

"What?" Melanie asked shrilling, jumping up.

Martin dropped his tea cup.

"Shit! Where? What do we do?"

"They're in the tunnels under the institute, at the centre of the maze." Gerry told them, looking distraught.

Melanie called out for Michael and Helen but they didn't show up. They could hear their discordant laughter echoing around but no door appeared.

Melanie cursed.

"Can you show us the way to them?" Jon asked.

"You'll never get there on time." Gerry panicked.

"We need to get Elias away from Tim." Jon said.

"Make him come here. What would get Elias's attention?"

Martin and Melanie exchanged looked and grinned wickedly.

"Set fire to the archives!" They both said at the same time.

Jon groaned.

"Alright, for Tim." He agreed.


	30. Chapter 30

Tim was surprised when Peter came to him and told him today was the day, they were finally ready. He was glad that is was finally going to be over but as he followed Peter through the dark tunnels under the institute, clutching his axe tightly, he felt such overwhelming dread that even Peter seemed to notice.

"Is everything alright, Tim?" Peter asked pleasantly, as if they were just on a pleasant stroll in a park.

"Obviously not, this place is horrible, and we are going to do something horrible...it's fine...I just hate it down here." Tim answered

"Ah, yes, of course. Hard to trust the doors, I imagine." Peter said amicably.

The Distortion tended to hang out in the tunnels under the institute and they had passed various impossible doors already. 

"No idea why everyone else seems to." Tim said bitterly remembering his own unpleasant encounters with the entity.

Peter chuckled, it made Tim's skin break out in goosebumps.

"Yes it does seem foolish." He agreed.

"The map says to go this way but, I'm not sure, I think the tunnels change..." Tim said nervously when they came to a dead end.

"Oh, don’t worry about that. Ink’s practically still wet. Not to mention, if they do change, well… I happen to have something that will change them back." Peter said pulling a thin, crumpled book from his coat pocket.

"Is that a Leitner?" Tim asked alarmed.

"It is!" Peter told him cheerfully.

"Are you sure it's safe to use? It's got blood all over it." Tim pointed out.

"That’s Leitner too!" Peter beamed.

"That isn't reassuring." Tim hissed at him.

"Do you want to see how it works?" Peter asked eagerly.

"No, nope, definitely not." Tim told him.

"No, I insist! Watch." Peter said opening the book anyway.

There was a few beats of silence.

"Well, as _fascinating_ as this is...maybe we should push on?" Tim asked drolly.

"I’m reading. Shush." Peter scolded him mildly.

There was a soft groaning sound of shifting earth then Tim could hear footsteps coming towards them.

"Peter, I think there’s something in there." Tim said nervously.

"Mm-hmm. I’d stay quiet if I were you." Peter told him breezily shutting off his light, Tim quickly followed suit.

The footsteps grew closer in the darkness as well as some horrifying inhuman sounds of agitation and distorted screams and gasps.

"So you finally decided to let me out, Jon?" A ragged female voice called out.

"Joooooon?" The voice called, croonign and sing song.

Tim could help a terrified inhale of breath when he recognized Not!Sasha.

"Who’s there?" Not!Sasha hissed.

Tim held his breath.

_"Who let me out?_ Don’t be shy… I just want to say thank you." Not!Sasha trilled.

Tim and Peter remained silent and still.

"…alright, have it your way. Now if you’ll excuse me… I have some unfinished business." Not!Sasha told them and let out a cackling laugh that faded as it disappeared in the tunnels.

"That was the thing that..." Tim said, letting out a shaky breath.

"Yes!" Peter said cheerfully.

"Why did you let it out, it's going to-"

"Make sure everyone is too busy to follow us. They’ll be fine… probably. You could still go help them. If you insist." Peter told him, sounding smug.

After a few beats of silence Tim just sighed, resigned.

"Very good. Come on." Peter told him smug and self satisfied.

The kept walking through the tunnels until they came to a massive, circular cavernous room with a tower in the centre.

"What is this place?" Tim asked looking around at the empty jail cells all opening into the room in amazement. 

"The panopticon of Millbank prison. Not quite as Smirke originally conceived it, of course; Jonah Magnus made certain… adjustments." Peter explained.

"This was chosen as the Institute’s location when the prison closed. It’s a significant site of power for the Beholding. From the tower in the center of this room, you can see everything."

"This is the artifact...the device that Simon Fairchild was talking about?" Tim asked.

"That's right. I want to use the powers of this place to learn about the Extinction - what it’s doing, where it’s manifesting. Then we can stop it." Peter confirmed.

"How does it work?" Tim asked looked up at the watchtower curiously.

"Well first you’ll have to dispose of the current occupant."

Tim followed Peters gaze and saw in the seat of the watchtower a person was seated, they were so shriveled and still Tim would have taken them for a corpse if Peter hadn't just told him he'd have to kill them.

_"_ Who is that?" Tim asked horrified, he had only been on board with killing Elias, he didn't know if he could kill this unknown person.

"Jonah Magnus! His body at least. Sitting here, watching. Binding it all together, growing ever older. If you want to take his place, well…" Peter trailed off.

"I...OK, in for a penny..." Tim said grimly, hefting his axe.

They made their way up to Jonah carefully. Up close it was more obvious he was alive, he wasn't decomposing but he was eerily still, no breath was even evident. His eyelids were shriveled open showing nothing but black, empty sockets.

_"_ Where are his eyes?" Tim asked shakily.

"Exactly where they’ve always been, Tim." Elias's voice answered him, making him jump.

Elias chuckled mildly at Tim's shock.

"Watching over _my_ Institute."

"What are you doing here, Elias?" Peter

"Oh, you needn’t worry." Elias said loftily.

"Two against one?" Peter frowned.

"I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. I just wanted to be here at the end. Can a man not watch his own death?" Elias smirked.

"Don't let him distract you." Peter warned Tim.

" Peter." Elias scolded the man, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Elias." Peter replied in a matching tone.

"Come now, Tim. I would have thought you’d _jump_ at the chance to kill me." Elias criticized when he saw Tim was just staring at him warily.

"It can't be this easy. I don't believe you would just stand aside and let me." Tim growled at him.

Elias gave him an evil smile.

"If I…If I do kill you, will the others survive?" Tim asked.

"Elias?" Peter growled at him angrily.

"Come now, Peter, it’s a valid question. And you should have addressed it yourself, really." Elias scolded the man.

"The short answer is, _I don’t know_. I guarantee it won’t be pleasant for them, but I honestly don’t know if their ties to the Institute are quite as strong as I may have implied. You, at least should be insulated from the fallout by your new allegiance. Jon… _might_ be powerful enough to weather it, or he might be the worst effected, who's to say? No one has ever done anything like this before."

Tim laughed bitterly.

"I should have known, no answers, no promises for anything." He looked at the gleaming blade of the axe thoughtfully, remembering the fleeting joy of destroying Nikola. 

"Not like life is all that pleasant for any of us now anyway." He mused lifting the axe to swing it at the body of Jonah Magnus.

But before he could his vision clouded and was taken over by images of somewhere else. Disoriented he staggered and dropped the axe. He was in another underground passage. It was not well lit but Tim recognized where he was right away, he was under the old opera house where Danny had gone missing. 

"What? How am here?" Tim asked looking around wildly.

Then he saw them, two figures in the gloom, Danny and Nikola. Danny was tied up in a chair the way Jon had been when they rescued him from the circus all those months ago. He looked terrified with tears rolling down his young, handsome cheeks, he trembled and struggled against his bonds. Tim could feel his brother's frantic terror. 

"Oh what a pretty skin your have." Nikola crooned. She towered over the young man, dressed as a clown with her broad frozen grin and unblinking eyes focused on Danny's frightened face. She ran a finger delicately along the line of his jaw.

"Leave him alone." Tim yelled but she gave no indication she could hear. He tried to run at her but he was frozen. He could only watch as her sharp fingers sliced into his brothers flesh and Tim screamed just as Danny did.

In the Panoptican Peter glared at Elias as Tim stopped mid axe swing, went oddly unfocused and limp then dropped to the floor screaming in agony.

"Really Elias? Cheating!" Peter growled at him.

Elias scoffed.

"What you really thought I was going to let him kill me?" 

"We had an agreement!" Peter fumed.

"You were actually going to let Tim murder me? Me? Your husband?" Elias asked looking offended.

"Ex-husband." Peter grit out.

"Oh whatever." Elias scoffed.

They were distracted by their arguments and didn't notice Gerry, who had followed Tim through the tunnels hiden in the dark, disappear to get help. 

"Look if it makes you feel better I will look in on this Extinction thing you are always banging on about." Elias huffed.

Peter look several slow deep breaths to calm himself.

"If you were always going to wriggle out of our deal why not just look into the Extinction for me in the first place?" Peter asked angrily.

"Well I thought you were going to pick Martin, and he never would have had the balls to kill me." Elias admitted.

"So you were happy to wager when you were sure you would win, and now that you haven't you just cheat?" Peter growled.

"Look you're being very dramatic about all this, it's really not like you." Elias frowned.

Peter fumed visibly at him for a moment then seemed to lose the will to remain angry,

"I don't know why I expected anything else." He groaned.

"You really wanted me dead?" Elias teased batting his lashes a little.

Peter grumble under his breath.

"Cheer up dear, you're going to get what you wanted anyway." I promise I will look into this pesky new fear for you..." Elias suddenly stopped taking and cocked his head to the side, as if listening. 

"Urg those morons!" He snapped angrily. 

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"They are setting the archives on fire!" Elias growled.

"Go and do something about it!" Elias ordered, then when Peter looked undecided added.

"The panopticon doesn't work without the archives so if you want to know about the Extinction you better hurry."

Peter sighed.

"Fine." He said and disappeared into grey fog.

Back at the archives they were indeed starting a fire. 

"Calm down we won't burn down the whole archives." Melanie told Jon.

Jon was a jittery pile of nerves, torn between his worry for Tim and his worry for the archives and the important knowledge they might contain.

"We are just going to burn enough statements to get Elias's attention, not destroy your entire food source." Melanie continued, making a pile of scrunched up statements. 

Martin stood by with a fire extinguisher, his face milk pale with worry for Tim.

"You have a lighter right?" Melanie prompted when she deemed the pile big enough. 

Jon nodded and handed it to her, feeling unable to set fire to the pages himself.

As the flames licked over the statements Jon felt a flash of hot pain across his skin. He bit back a cry, it couldn't be real, it was just a defense mechanism, just Elias protecting his hoard of horror stories. The flames crackled and spread greedily over the pile. Jon's burn scar seared with pain as if it were newly blistered. As more and more pages caught light the scar on his throat also burned, and then the many worm scars and the space where his missing ribs should be. 

Jon clenched his teeth and panted against the pain. Melanie threw a few more statements on the pile. Jon started sweating and couldn't hold back a whimper.

"Are you alright?" Martin asked noticing him suddenly.

"Migraine, don't worry." Jon grit out.

As Martin was distracted the flames suddenly flared and spread to a nearby shelf, engulfing many statements in a few seconds.

Jon screamed in agony and dropped to the floor, writhing and gasping. 

"Shit." Melanie said when she saw the flames spread.

"SHIT." She repeated when she saw Jon drop to the floor.

"I think the fire is hurting him." Martin yelled.

"We have to put it out!"

Martin sprayed the flames with the extinguisher. Melanie grabbed a second can and helped smother them. When his can was empty and Martin was sure the fire was dead he ran over to Jon's prone form.

"Jon are you OK?" Martin asked, rubbing Jon's shoulder gently. 

Jon was laying on his side, curled into himself protectively with his eyes scrunched shut. He slowly uncurled and opened his eyes with a low groan of pain.

"That was horrible." He complained shakily.

"Sorry." Martin sighed, feeling weak with relief. 

Jon seemed to recover quickly but then just when Martin was begining to relax Jon let out a strangeled cry and his eyes rolled back into his head. His back arched and he fell to the ground again and began to convulse. Hi limbs flailing wilding and static building and dropping erratically.

"Jon!" Martin shrieked, panicked, he tried rolling Jon in to the recovery position and ripped of his jumper to put something soft under Jon's head.

"Call an ambulance." He called to Melanie.

"He's having a seizure." 

Melanie didn't answer except for a soft gasp of fear. Martin noticed that the room had gone very cold.

He looked up and saw that Peter Lukas had come instead of Elias.

"Yes Melanie, you had better call an ambulance, Elias will be very annoyed if you have broken his archivist." Peter said disapprovingly.

Melanie nodded silently and took out her phone to make the call. 

"As for you...Martin isn't it?" Peter continued.

Martin nodded swallowing hard.

"You were actually my first choice you know? Everything would have worked out better probably if I went with you. But Tim was so pushy, and I have never known how to deal with pushy people." Peter sighed. He seemed to blame Martin for this even though Martin had no idea what he was talking about.

"Where is Tim? Is he alright?" Martin asked.

Jon was still seizing but it was slowing down.

"No, he almost certainly isn't" Peter told Martin with a smirk.

Martin felt cold grey fog encompass him. 

"Jon needs help." Martin begged.

"Please don't hurt him."

Peter's oddly jovial laugh was the last thing Martin heard as the fog swallowed him up.

Back in the panopticon Elias had sent his awareness to see what was happening in the archives through Melanie's eyes. He smirked at how frightened Martin looked as Jon writhed around on the ground in agony and noted with relief they were putting out the fires without Peter even intervening. 

"Idiots." Elias sighed to himself. "Honestly can't turn your back on those fools for a minute or they start ruining everything."

Elias turned back to Tim and frowned when he saw Tim was no longer on the floor crying uncontrollably. He frowned and glanced over at the seat of the Panopticon with a sudden feeling of trepidation.

Tim knew what was happening, he knew Elias was feeding his brother's torture into his head. Knowing didn't make it any less horrible or overwhelming but he knew. He tried to fight it but it filled his senses. Then suddenly the vision faded, the information streaming into his head seemed to slow, fade. Tim didn't know why or how long he had but with every fiber of conviction he had he focused on locating the axe he had dropped and moving towards the decrepit body of Jonah Magnus.

Elias has just enough tome to realize what had happened, that Tim had used the moment of distraction to pick up the axe and get close enough to maim his former body. Elias quickly went to immerse Tim back in the trauma of his brother's death but he was a half second too late and Tim swung the axe into Jonah Magnus's head.

Elias dropped to the ground instantly and began convulsing, bursts of static blaring out of him like an untuned radio at full volume. 

Tim pulled the axe free from the broken skull he had just cleaved in half and made his way over to Elias. He didn't know if Jonah could survive in his new body with the old body destroyed. Tim wasn't sure if the writhing, seizing man was still a threat or if this was just the original Elias. But Tim wasn't about to take the risk and swung the axe over and over again into his former employer's head. 

The static stopped. 

Tim dropped the blood slick axe. 

Looking down at the mutilated, bloody body he felt sick and horrified. He wanted to get away. He stumbled, legs shaky with shock as he made his way along the tunnels. 

Tim's grip on his flashlight was white knuckled with stress and his hands were so shaky the light flickered and danced on the uneven brick walls of the tunnels. Tim had no idea which way to go and was terrified he would run into Not!Sasha or Peter Lukas. 

"You need a door." A voice in the darkness startle Tim. 

A door creaked open and warm light spilled out. Helen peered around the doorway at Tim with an unnerving grin.

"I...I don't..." Tim stammered uncertainly. 

"It's alright Tim. I'll take you back to your friends." The distortion crooned.

"Tim no!" Gerry called, rushing towards him through the tunnels. His eyes wide with panic.

"Please don't trust them!" Gerry begged.

Helen scoffed at him.

"Rude." She complained.

"Tim please, I can help you find the way back out." Gerry insisted.

Tim nodded.

"Sorry lady but I'd trust this dead goth over you any day." 

"Suit yourself." Helen sniffed slamming the door shut.


	31. Chapter 31

Jon woke up alone in a room that was not the bedroom he shared with Martin. He knew this the second he opened his eyes but it took a few seconds of blinking sleepily at the Admiral to realize he was in Georgie's guest room. The cat was a warm, comforting weight on his chest, purring softly and watching Jon with half open eyes. It was peaceful, and he felt horrible, aching and sick and exhausted. The temptation to just go back to sleep was high but he had an odd feeling there was something important he should be doing.

Jon couldn't remember why he was there, his head felt like a half empty box of puzzle pieces, all rattling around, trying to connect with each other. 

The door to the room creaked open softly and Georgie peered in.

"Jon? Are you awake?" She asked him in a careful whisper. 

He tried to answer her but he couldn't remember how to make his mouth form words and just hummed vaguely. 

"Think you could try sitting up and drinking some water?" She asked him. Her tone was so gentle and hushed he wondered if there was someone else in the room trying to sleep.

Jon struggled feebly to sit up but only succeeded in dislodging the Admiral. The cat looked offended and jumped off the bed and ran away.

Jon felt like crying at the loss.

Georgie handed Jon a glass but the second she took her hands away he nearly dropped it and she had to grab hold of it again.

"OK, here you go." She said, lifting the glass to his lips. Her face looked strained with concern.

Melanie came into the room just as Georgie was putting the now empty glass aside.

"He's awake?" She asked, peering at Jon curiously, she also looked concerned and stressed.

He wondered who she was worried about, it seemed unlikely to be him.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" She asked.

Jon was surprised, he didn't think Melanie had ever asked him this before, he dutifully did a mental inventory of his various body parts. His head pounded and felt muzzy. All his joints ached and every muscle felt overworked. Even moving his eyes was hard, so in summary he felt pretty terrible. He tried to convey this to Melanie but his puzzle box brain could not seem to pull the words together and his marble mouth could not form them. He just made a slurred, garbled sound that at least answered Melanie's question in tone, if not in content.

"That good huh?" She nodded.

"Do you remember what happened?" She asked him carefully.

Jon blinked at her. He wasn't sure what event specifically she was asking him about, though to be fair he didn't remember much of anything right now.

He managed to shake his head. He was so tired, it was hard to even keep the women's faces in focus.

"He seems really out of it." Georgie whispered to Melanie.

"Well, he did have a seizure..." Melanie replied.

This was news to Jon and he wanted to know more about it. He wondered why he was here, at Georgie's house and not at home with Martin. 

"Where?" He managed to force out.

"You're at my apartment, in my guest room." Georgie told him, she took his hand gently in hers and squeezed it warmly.

"No...not...that...not _that_ where." Jon struggled to explain he wanted to know where Martin was, not where he was, he was getting agitated with frustration.

Georgie shushed him and rubbed his arm, trying to calm him.

"It's OK. You're safe." She told him.

As good as being safe was it did make Jon wonder why she felt she needed to bring it up. Had he been unsafe recently? Or at least in more danger than usual? 

"No..." He croaked, blinking hard in an attempt to collect himself.

"Why? Why'm I....here?" He tried this time.

"You had a seizure, you need to rest." Georgie told him.

Jon growled in frustration, it was so hard, thinking was hard, speaking was harder and he got the distinctive feeling they were hiding something.

"I don't....I don't have...have all the pieces." He complained.

"Shhh, it's ok, just go back to sleep for a bit." Georgie soothed.

"Martin?" Jon finally got his mouth to form the name.

Georgie and Melanie exchanged a quick glance and a small headshake.

"He can't be here right now." Melanie told Jon.

"Where?" Jon asked.

"He's...he'll be here as soon as he can." Georgie told him, but she looked close to tears and it filled Jon with fear.

"Where is Martin?" Jon asked with a burst of static.

"Peter Lukas sent him into the Lonely." Melanie told him then scowled.

"Hey, don't do that." She snapped at him.

Jon wasn't listening. He pulled back the blankets and swung his legs out of bed, ignoring Georgie's insistence he stop, Jon hauled himself to his feet. The moment he was standing Jon found that his legs had unfortunately been replaced with soggy noodles and he dropped to the floor.

Georgie tutted at him.

"I told you, Jon you can't do anything right now. I'm sorry, I'm worried too, but you need to rest." Georgie tried to help Jon back into bed but he struggled away from her and made a clumsy beeline for the door.

"Jon, come on, how far do you think you can get in that state?" Melanie scoffed at him.

Jon had managed to crawl to the door and sat leaning against the wall, panting and trying to catch his breath. He glared at Melanie, then noticed he was dressed in a pair of black satin trousers with pink love hearts, looking down at his chest he saw he also had a black shirt with a cartoon of an angry pink kitten. presumably these were a pair of Melanie's pajamas. He scowled more deeply and tried to pull himself up with the doorframe. 

"Jon. Please you're going to hurt yourself." Georgie said sadly.

Jon just glared at her and pulled himself unsteadily upright again. Feeling triumphant he managed all of two steps before his vision went black and he crumpled to the floor. 

Jon woke up several hours later and cursed quietly to himself. He threw back the blankets again and sat up. As soon as his feet hit the floor a voice startled him.

"You're tenacious I'll give you that." 

Melanie was sitting on the floor across the room from him, the admiral was on her lap and she was scrolling absently through her phone.

Jon stared muzzily at her for a beat, then decided to ignore her and struggled to get up.

"Give it up Sims you won't even make it to the door." She told him, not bothering to look up from her phone.

Jon was feeling a little steadier than when he made his last attempt and managed to made the few steps to the door on wobbly, jelly legs. He grabbed the wall for support and shot Melanie a smug look.

"Oh yeah, look at you go, ready to swoop into a terrifying fearscape and rescue your boyfriend." Melanie told him, wryly sarcastic.

Jon scowled but didn't answer her, he had to stay focused. He opened the door carefully and peered out into Georgie's living room. Georgie seemed to be distracted by a knock at the front door so if all went well he could get past her with the added bonus of the door already being open. He managed four shaky steps to the sofa and clutched unto it holding himself up with the backrest with trembling arms. 

He heard Melanie snort at his lack of coordination but continued to ignore her.

Now he just had to rush at the door and get past Georgie and whoever else was there then he was on his way to save Martin. 

Georgie still hadn't noticed him, she was looking through the peephole to see who was there but then she gasped and threw the door open. Now was his chance. Jon stumbled uncoordinated towards the doorway but instead of breaking through as he had planned he ran straight into something solid and warm. His vision greyed and he almost fainted, but before he could fall strong arms wrapped around him and held him upright.

"Jon?" A familiar voice asked.

Jon's vision swam back into focus and he was looking up at Tim's sad, concerned face.

"Hey boss, where's the fires?" Tim asked with a sad half smile.

"Tim...have to...have to get Martin..." Jon slurred. 

Tim hummed and nodded at this information but instead of helping him escape simply picked Jon up and carried him over to the sofa. Jon struggled weakly to get away but he was running out of steam, and Tim was so warm and solid and comforting.

"What's wrong with him?" Tim asked brushing Jon's tangled hair from his face and laying his large cool palm across Jon's forehead.

Jon leaned into it despite himself, closing his eyes and sighing at the relief.

"He's not doing so well." Georgie said hesitantly.

"He's burning up." Tim said worriedly.

"Yeah, it kind of messed him up when we set the archives on fire." Melanie told them joining them in the living room. 

"You shouldn't have done that." Tim chastised her.

"We were distracting Elias to help you!" Melanie replied tersely.

"I had it under control."

"Oh really?" Another voice cut in.

"Didn't seem like it to me with the way you were writhing around on the ground crying uncontrollably."

Jon looked up blearily to see Gerry was there as well. looking at Jon with big, worried eyes and biting his black lipsticked lip in concern.

"Are you alright Tim?" Georgie asked him.

"That sounds awful."

Tim sighed.

"No, I guess not, I mean physically I'm alright but...today was a lot." Tim admitted.

Jon felt exhaustion overtaking him, he struggled against it as hard as he could.

"Please...need to...to go." He begged.

Tim frowned at him worriedly.

"Jon....You can barely even talk." Tim sighed.

"I think killing Elias might have affected him too." Tim told the others softly when Jon seemed to give up and slump limply against him.

"Elias said it might, I didn't know if I should believe him but..." Tim nodded towards Jon.

"You killed Elias?!" Melanie asked eagerly.

"Yeah." Tim didn't sound happy about it, just exhausted.

"So it's over?" Melanie confirmed excitedly.

"We're free?"

"I don't feel free." Tim said sadly.

"What about Peter Lukas?" Melanie asked him.

"Don't know." Tim admitted.

"Martin." Jon started struggling weakly again at hearing the name.

"Peter Lukas...he took him...he's in the Lonely." Jon seemed to notice his efforts were in vain and began to cry brokenly.

"Sshhh, it's OK, don't worry we'll get him back." Tim soothed.

Jon continued to struggle for a few more minutes but Tim held him against his chest and rocked him gently until he gave in to the exhaustion and fell asleep.

When Jon woke up again the sun was up. He was still cradled against Tim's chest. Tim was asleep on Georgie's sofa, his chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm that Jon could easily just give in to and go back to sleep. Instead he carefully extracted himself from Tim's sleep heavy arms. Tim didn't stir, he was completely wiped out from the previous day.

Standing up filled Jon's vision with blackness and swirling starbursts but he held himself up with with the backrest of the sofa and breathed slowly and evenly until his vision cleared. His legs felt weak but held him up. 

Looking down at himself he noticed he was still wearing Melanie's pajamas. Scowling he looked around the room and saw a long rain coat hanging up by the door and a pair of wellington boots. The coat and boots were Georgie's and absurdly big on him, the boots came up almost to his knees and he had to shuffle awkwardly to keep them on. But at least they mostly hid the pajamas. 

Jon took great care in opening the door as quietly as possible so as not to wake anyone, and stepped out on to Georgie's balcony. He shut the door just as carefully behind him and turned to see Gerry, sitting on the balcony, watching him with an amused frown.

"Where do you think you're going?" Gerry asked. He had been watching the sunrise while waiting for everyone else to wake, he had not expected to see Jon trying to sneak out like a ninja, an unsteady, eccentrically dressed ninja.

"I'm going to rescue Martin from the Lonely." Jon told him testily as he stumbled down the stairs, gripping the handrail hard.

Gerry hummed critically watching his progress.

"Don't you think it would be better to wait until you are feeling better?" Gerry asked floating after him.

"For who? Maybe for me but not for Martin." Jon snapped back.

"How long can people even survive in there?"

Gerry sighed and resigned himself to just following Jon.

Jon managed to flag down a cab but when they got to the institute he realized he had no money. He tried to leg it but quickly fell over the oversized rubber boots. 

"Oi!" The cabbie yelled and made to get out for the chase.

"I wouldn't bother." Gerry told the cabbie.

"There was never anyone in the cab." Gerry said in a spooky tone and phased out through the cab door.

The driver screamed and drove off with screeching tires. 

Jon struggled up the institute steps. Other institutes staff arriving for work scattered out of his way and watched him with fascination. Whispering and nudging each other.

"I swear that guy looks more deranged every time I see him." Gerry heard one observer whisper to another.

Gerry supposed he couldn't blame them staring, Jon did look quite a spectacle with his tangled hair, unsteady gait, pajamas and rainwear. Jon didn't pay anyone the slightest bit of attention apart from glaring venomously at any person who looked like they might try and ask him a question or try offer to help.

Down in the archives they found Daisy and Basira, who had apparently just arrived themselves and were staring at the mess left by the fire in the archives.

"What the hell happened?" Basira asked Jon and Gerry as she saw them approach. 

"And what the hell are you wearing?" She added when she fully appreciated Jon's attire.

"Never mind about that now." Jon growled at them.

"I have to find Martin." He then proceeded to ignore them and just stood there swaying and looking around with an unfocussed expression.

"Are you alright?" Daisy asked with concern.

"Fine...fine..." Jon waved her off.

"What are you doing?" Basira asked him suspiciously, Jon's eye's had begun to glow green.

"I can feel the edges of it still." Jon said in a faraway voice.

"What does that even mean?" Basira snapped at him.

Jon shushed her and she fumed visibly.

But then a thick grey fog rose and Jon cried out in delight.

"Good luck." Gerry called after him as the archivist stepped into the fog.

"OK what the fuck?" Basira demanded when Jon disappeared. 

Gerry sighed.

"Tim was being tortured by Elias, Melanie and Martin set fire to the archives to distract Elias so Tim could get away, then Peter Lukas showed up and sent Martin to the Lonely. The fire really messed Jon up, he only just recovered enough to go after Martin." Gerry explained.

Daisy frowned worriedly at the dissipating fog.

"Honestly we take one day off!" Basira complained.

The previous day Basira and Daisy had not come in to the institute. Basira wanted to talk to Daisy in regards to what she had said about quitting the hunt, and that it was killing her. So they had taken the day off to talk in depth.

"You could go back to hunting monsters." Basira pleaded.

"No I won't do that." Daisy told he calmly.

"But why? You were stopping evil things, and if that's what it takes to keep you healthy..." Basira reasoned.

"But I wasn't just hunting evil...or rather, my ability to tell what was and wasn't evil gets corrupted by the hunt. I nearly killed Jon after all." Daisy shuddered.

"Maybe you should have." Basira said bitterly.

"No. How can you think that?" Daisy said fiercely.

"You didn't see him attack that guy. He was standing over that big, strong man and they were cowering like a child. He's more powerful than he lets on." Basira insisted.

"Maybe, but he also went into the Buried to rescue me, he risked getting trapped in there forever for someone who tried to kill him, and he dealt with that dark sun thing just on the odd chance that it might hurt someone in the future, even though it hurt him. That isn't the sort of thing an evil person would do." Daisy said firmly.

"Forget about Jon, I want you to live, I want you to get strong again. I need you." Basira pleaded.

"I'll still be here for you Basira." Daisy promised. 

"But this is who I am now, and I don't want to be that savage person ever again." 

Watching Jon once again plunge into a horrifying situation to try and save someone else, Basira had to admit, Daisy was right, Jon wasn't evil. How many times would she have to see him do something like that before she was convinced? 

"He'll be alright." Basira told Gerry, who was looking anxious.

"You would be amazed the situations that scrawny guy get's away from." 

Gerry nodded, and gave her a tiny, strained smile.

"Is Peter Lukas in today?" Daisy asked.

"Maybe we could...I don't know, threaten him somehow? Get him to release them?" 

You may have been wondering what happened to Peter Lukas. Did he discover Elias's hacked up body in the Panopticon? Was he upset? Was he out for revenge? 

Well, after Peter had sent Martin to the Lonely he had gone back to the tunnels. He was annoyed at Elias, he was also annoyed that he had to walk all the way back to the Panopticon because he was only able to travel out of the tunnels through the Lonely, not in to the tunnels. 

So an he walked along, brooding and angry he was too distracted to remember the Not!Them was still finding it's way out of the tunnels and it pounced on him before he even noticed it was there. 

For it's part the Not!Them was furious at being locked up so long and ravenous. It had been far too long since it had fed. Seeing another person it vaguely sensed was an institute staff member the creature was half way through consuming it's victim before it even noticed it was another avatar. They both realized their mistakes too late. 

Peter Lukas was too powerful for the Not!Them to just consume and replace, and the monster had the upper hand on Peter and he had no chance to try and throw it into the Lonely. So instead, neither were able to win and they combined. 

They became something new. A creature of the Lonely and the Stranger. They became _Them_. A creature that could take on the appearance of a lost loved one. A deceased wife....a son who had gone missing four years ago without a trace...a best friend who had never returned from a tour of service...

Their victims would catch a glimpse of _Them_ in a crowd. In the distance. Through the window of a train as it sped past the station. Always just out of reach. 

No one else besides the victim would ever see _T_ _hem._ No one else would believe anything other than that the victim was in denial, hallucinating, imagining it. But they knew what they saw. And after days, weeks, months maybe of slowly torturing the victim, encouraging paranoia and betrayal and mistrust, isolating the victim from their friends and family until they had no one, until there was nothing in their life that mattered as much as finding _Them...._ Then they would just be another lost soul in the Lonely.

So Basira, Daisy and Gerry weren't able to find Peter Lukas in his office to try and extort him into releasing Jon and Martin from the Lonely. Which is probably just as well because it was unlikely this would have turned out favorably for them.


	32. Chapter 32

Jon staggered his way long an endless grey, cold seashore searching frantically for Martin in the thick, swirling fog. The air was so cold and damp drops of icy water beaded on the raincoat he wore rolled off as drops. Jon was so glad he had opted to borow the raincoat and boots. The sand was wet and cold and filled with sudden pools of frigid salt water.

Jon shivered, he had grown up by the sea and usually found the seaside soothing, but this place was not soothing. It was menacing. The seas was an dark iron grey, they sky was white with fog, and as far as the eye could see was nothing but endless, desolate shoreline or empty ocean. 

Jon called for Martin but only heard his own voice, weak and unsteady as he felt. He shivered and pulled the coat tighter around himself. He thought of Martin, his warmth, his voice, the feeling of being held gently in his arms. He was going the right way, he Knew it.

Finally he saw the shape of a person, sat curled up like they were trying to be unnoticeable. Though Jon had been calling and the person hadn't replied Jon was sure it was him.

"Martin!" Jon cried in relief.

"Jon? Why are you here?" Martin asked, his voice was oddly monotone and stripped of emotion.

"I – I came for you." Jon said, taken aback by Martin's uncharacteristic blankness.

"Why?" Martin asked with little apparent curiosity. He had no colour in his face, even his eyes and hair seemed faded, watery. His expression was blank, detached. 

"I was worried…I thought you might be lost." Jon told him, approaching anxiously.

"Are you real?" Martin asked.

"Yes! Yes, I-I-I am. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here." Jon told him eagerly.

"No. No, I don’t think so." Martin sighed sadly.

"Why?" Jon asked aghast.

"This is where I should be. It feels right." Martin told him

"Martin, don’t say that." Jon said, horrified.

"Nothing hurts here. It’s just quiet. Even the _fear_ is gentle here." Martin told him but then frowned, confused.

"Uh...what....what are you wearing?" Martin asked, a bit of curiosity bleeding into his tone.

"Oh...um...Melanie's pajamas and Georgie's wet weather gear." Jon admitted, opening the coat to give Martin a better look at his eccentric attire.

A slow, incredulous smile spread over Martin face bringing warmth back to his face. 

"Right...." Martin smirked. The colour came back to his eyes.

"I'll have you know this has actually been very practical for the weather." Jon huffed.

"Even the pajamas?" Martin grinned, getting huffy made Jon look even more adorably ridiculous. 

"Martin I came to rescue you from the Lonely!" Jon scowled. 

"I wasn't exactly worrying about the dress code." 

Martin laughed, the mist around them dissipated a little. 

Jon was relieved to see him looking more himself.

Martin gathered this angry, eccentric little man into his arms chuckling fondly.

"You are absurd." Martin told him.

Jon huffed, his warm breath against Martin's neck made him feel live and present.

"And it's my favorite thing about you." Martin added.

Jon smiled and leaned into the hug.

"Let's go home." He told Martin.

Gerry, Daisy and Basira had just returned from Peter Lukas's office when Jon and Martin reappeared through a swirl of fog.

Martin was supporting Jon heavily and chastising him about disregarding his health.

"You're never going to recover if you don't take time to properly rest and let your body heal." Martin was lecturing him.

Jon was just looking up at him with a sappy, self satisfied expression and nodding sleepily.

When Martin saw the others he switched to chastising Basira instead.

"Basira! We've talked about this, you need to take better care of Jon when I'm not around, you know how he is. Honestly! Letting him go into the Lonely in this condition." He scolded her.

Basira threw her hands up in exasperation.

"I'm so glad to see you both back safely." Daisy told Martin and Jon.

"Yes we were very worried." Gerry agreed.

Martin smiled tiredly.

"The Lonely didn't have a very strong hold on me really." He told Gerry.

"I'm not lonely, not anymore." 

They all went back to Georgie's apartment because they need to fill Tim, Melanie and Georgie in on what just happened and Tim needed to fill Jon, Martin, Basira and Daisy on what had happened with Elias. So it made the most sense.

Georgie, Melanie and Tim had just woken up and discovered Jon was missing and were getting ready to go out and find him when Basira called to say they were on their way to Georgie's.

"You little goblin! You scared the shit out of me!" Tim reprimanded Jon when he saw him hobbling up the stairs to Georgie's apartment. 

Then Tim saw Martin and yelped in joy and ran to him with open arms. The two of them hugged fiercely, crying and kissing and laughing. 

Jon watched them with a happy, exhausted smile then nearly passed out on the stairs. Luckily Daisy caught him before he could crack his head on the concrete steps. 

"Idiot." Basira scolded him, stepping up to take his other arm so they could help him up to Georgie's sofa and leave Tim and Martin to cry and hug and kiss and laugh hysterically on the stairs.

Later that day, when they had caught everyone up on what happened Tim, Martin, Jon, Gerry and the Admiral were all curled up for a nap on Georgie's guest bed, taking up every scrap of available space on the double mattress. Gerry couldn't actually sleep but he was enjoying laying quietly with the others. Georgie peered in on them with fond tears gathering in her eyes, filled with pure relief to have them all safe.

"My boys!" She cooed.

"Look at them Melanie, aren't they all so adorable together?"

Melanie scoffed and rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from turning up a little.

Jon woke up confused and overheated. He felt like he was being crushed from all side by hot, close earth and struggled and cried out in panic. 

"Jon? Hey, it's alright." A sleep rough, concerned voice told him.

Jon saw that one of the walls of earth he had been scrambling against was actually Tim. 

The wall behind him started rubbing his back and asked him softly if he had a nightmare. 

This wall seemed to actually be Martin, so he wasn't in the Buried. Which was good news, but he still felt horrible. His skin was uncomfortably sensitive, he could feel every fiber in the sheets he was laying in. He could feel every slight movement of the people on the bed like he was on a raft on a turbulent sea. 

The room wasn't very dark, it was still afternoon and although the curtain had been drawn light creeped in the edges gently illuminating the space. But to Jon the dim light felt like a knife through his brain. Every hushed sound was grating on his nerves.

Jon whimpered and shut his eyes, pressing his hands over his ears. He could at least cut out audio and visual signals, but the heat and texture was still so overwhelming it hurt. 

Tim got off the bed and the jolt his movement sent through Jon made him whimper again. Martin stopped rubbing his back and Jon felt both grateful and remorseful for the loss of his touch. 

Something cold and wet was carefully laid across his forehead and covering his eyes. He sighed in relief. The cold felt good, and the cloth cut more light so he didn't have to keep scrunching his eyes shut.

There was more soft talking but it was too overwhelming to make out actually words. Then more disorienting movement as Martin presumably also got off the bed. Then everything was still and quiet. Jon fell back asleep.

He woke up a few hours later with no memory of the previous waking and panicked to find himself alone.

He got up far too quickly, his vision greyed and he fell the the floor with a loud thump.

The door quickly opened and Tim was there, peering down at him with his eyebrows all scrunched together in concern. 

"Are you alright? What happened?" Tim asked, crouching next to Jon to help him back into bed.

"Yes, just got up to fast." Jon scowled .

"What were you doing up? Need the loo?" Tim asked.

Jon shook his head and fidgeted with the blankets, looking a little embarrassed.

"I was...I woke up alone." He admitted blushed.

Tim didn't tease him as expected, instead he looked apologetic.

"We just wanted to give you some quiet, it seemed like we were bothering you." Tim told him, smoothing a cool hand over his forehead. 

"you're still a little warm, but a lot better than before." Tim told him.

"How are you feeling?" 

Jon hummed noncommittedly.

"Well, we should take you back to the clinic on the way home." Tim said firmly.

"Home?" Jon asked.

"Your apartment." Tim clarified. 

"I think Georgie and Melanie probably wouldn't mind a little space." 

The doctor was not thrilled with Jon's progress and insisted he stay for another iron infusion and a few chest scans to make sure there was no infection in his lungs.

"I think you both should come stay with us." Jon told Gerry and Tim while he waited for the infusion to finish.

"You sure your apartment is big enough for four?" Tim asked cocking an eyebrow at the blunt offer.

Martin shrugged.

"Gerry hardly takes up a lot of space considerign he's dead." Martin pointed out.

"Martin that's the sweetest thing anyone has every said about me." Gerry deadpaned.

"We can look for another apartment with more room for everyone." Jon shrugged. "I just don't think you should be alone, you will be vulnerable to the Lonely otherwise." 

"Besides, we will have four wages and we will all be getting a raise from the new head of department." Jon said with a wicked grin.

"Who?" Martin asked looking a little nervous at the thought.

"Well next in charge would be the assistant to the head of department..." Jon explained.

"No." Tim said.

"So that would be...." Jon continued cheerfully.

"Not happening." Tim snapped.

"You are turning down the opportunity to be my boss?" Jon teased.

"You would be an absolute nightmare employee." Tim groaned.

But Tim did agree to move in. He had been living in his family home, but his father was barely home and his mother had died when he was only young. So it wasn't ideal for someone who needed to avoid being alone. There was more room at his house than in JOn and Martin's tiny apartment, but although Tim's father was suportive of him being bi Tim didn't think his father would cope with three boyfriends, one of which was a ghost. 

Really none of them should be alone. Jon had proved spectacularly and consistently he could not take care of himself in any capacity and could not be trusted to make good life decisions, so it was for the best he stayed surrounded by people who cared for him. And Gerry had spent far too much of his life alone, he wasn't going to spend his death that way too. 

They still couldn't quit the archives.

"what do you think it means?" Martin asked nervously. 

They had all turned up at the archives when it became clear they still became ill from spending too long away. Melanie had tried to fill out the necessary paperwork to quit an found herself unable. She was devastated.

"Maybe Elias survived?" Basira suggested.

"No way." Tim argued. 

"I chopped him up with an axe."

"There are loads of avatars that seem to come back from death though." Basira insisted.

"If only we could get back to the Panopticon to check if his body is still there." Tim sighed.

Without a map it had proven impossible to find again, even Gerry, phasing through walls had not been able to. 

"I could always..." Helen began, creaking open her door.

"No!" Gerry, Jon, Tim and Martin all snapped at her in unison.

"Ladies?" Helen asked turning her attention to the three women.

"Even if his body is there, not sure it means much." Basira shrugged.

No one was really sure what to do at first. They waited to see if Peter Lukas returned to the institute. He didn't. Eventually, when it became clear no one else was going to, Basira reported him as missing.

With Peter officially missing Tim was technically the head of the Magnus institute. 

Tim didn't even pretend to be consider it and appointed Basira in charge as soon as possible. He did insist she give them all a raise though, and organise a wage for Gerry.

They managed to find a four bedroom townhouse that, although not super close to the institute was an easy commute on the tube. It was nice for them each to have their own space as well as having each other's company. Each of their room's reflected their personality. Tim's room as neat and stylish but if you opened a wardrobe an avalanche of clothes, sporting equipment and other random shit would burst out. 

Gerry's room was filled with artwork and music but no bed or clothing since he didn't have any use for things like that. He had things set up to read or listen to or watch when everyone else was asleep so he wouldn't get bored. Everyone was extra respectful of Gerry's space, never using it was a storage room or a place for things that didn't fit anywhere else. 

Jon's room was in the basement and the only bedroom without a window. Jon didn't mind, he only slept there if he had a sensory overload or a migraine and needed everything to be quiet and dark and still. The room was a complete disaster, messy and disordered with stacks of statements and abandoned cups of tea on every surface.

Martin had the master bedroom. Everyone had insisted he have it because Martin was besotted with the house. It was by far the nicest place he had ever lived. Jon almost always slept in Martin's bed but Tim preferred to sleep in his own bed. He couldn't understand how Martin managed to sleep with all the writhing around Jon did most nights.

Sometimes Tim went on dates with other people, occasionally he bought someone home. Sometimes Gerry went to stay with Georgie and Melanie for a few days so he could help Georgie recording her podcast. 

Sometimes they bickered, or got on each others nerves, but mostly they felt content and safe together. 

After Tim stepped down from his role as assistant to the head of the institute he went back to being a regular research assistant, he had been happy in research. 

When Jon recovered enough to be back at work he went back to recording statements and getting the archives into some sort of reasonable system. He was nervous of talking to people least he be tempted to pull a statement out of them. Instead Martin tended to take the new statements, he was good at comforting people and making them feel safe talking about their trauma. 

It was therefore so odd to see a new person coming out of Jon's office that when Gerry saw exactly that he was suspicious.

The man he saw walking out of Jon's office was tall and lanky and handsome, with flawless dark skin and magnetic dark eyes. He gave Gerry an apprising look as he passed him and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, as if in approval. 

Gerry glared at him.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"I'm a friend of Jon's" The man told him.

Gerry's glare deepened.

"I haven't met you before." He said tersely.

"I've been out of town." The man told him.

Gerry felt nervous about this man, he had such an aura of death about him. Worried for Jon, Gerry let the man go and hurried into Jon's office to check he was alright. He had been right to be worried, Jon was passed out, slumped in his chair and across his desk.

"Jon!" Gerry cried out alarmed.

Jon's eyelids fluttered open at the sound.

"Gerry?" He asked, his voice was hoarse and weak.

"Are you alright?" Gerry asked him anxiously.

"Yes...yes I-I think so." Jon said sitting up and rubbing his head like it hurt.

"Who was that person?" Gerry demanded.

"Oh...that was Oliver Banks." Jon told him.

Jon seemed to remember something and made to get up quickly but nearly fainted again.

"Take it easy." Gerry told him worriedly, when he saw Jon sway and clutch at his desk.

"Sorry...it's been a while since I dealt with an avatar. I forgot how much it takes out of me." Jon sighed. 

"He's an avatar?" Gerry asked.

"Mmm, of the End." Jon confirmed rubbing his eyes hard then blinking at Gerry tiredly.

"What did he want?" Gerry asked.

Jon smiled.

"He wanted to help us. Gertrude never finished the ritual with your page, she was interrupted." Jon explained. 

He got up more carefully this time and retrieved Gerry's page from where it had fallen on the floor.

Gerry frowned at him in confusion.

"That's why you're like a ghost when the others could take proper form." Jon told him. 

"Oliver helped me complete it." Jon reached out carefully and laid a gentle palm on Gerry's cheek, trailing his fingers softly along the line of Gerry's jaw.

For a moment Gerry just stood there, wide eyed with shock. Overwhelmed by the sensation of touch. Then he laughed delightedly. 

"Are you kidding me?!" He cried happily, vaulting over the desk and gathering Jon up in a hug.

Jon chuckled as Gerry smothered him in kisses, smearing dark lipstick all over his face.

"Are you sure you are alright though?" Gerry asked when he noticed Jon was still trembling a little. He could help but be a bit excited that he noticed because he could feel Jon trembling. 

"I'm fine, I just need a moment." Jon confirmed. 

"Alright then...if you are sure I am going to go find Tim and Martin." Gerry told him then dashed away when Jon assured him he was fine. 

And Jon was fine...it was just an unpleasant feeling. For a moment when completing the page's ritual Jon had felt what it was to be dead, the awful visceral finality of it. AS fleeting as it had been it was unsettling. But he was so happy for Gerry. His existence should be a lot more for fulfilling from now on.

Martin and Tim were delighted. 

"Ok you know what this mean?!" Tim asked him joyfully.

"I'm finally going to fix your goddamn die job!" 

Gerry laughed.

"Noooo. I like it, it's part of his look." Martin argued.

"I'm down for a makeover." Gerry decided.

Being tangible again obviously gave Gerry the opportunity to do more things he enjoyed, to have more autonomy and freedom. But he didn't just abandon the work he had been doing. He was sure there that Gertrude must have left more important information for them on her tapes. He found the tape of Gertrude's death, which horrifying as it was confirmed they wouldn't have to worry so much about the unknowing. It seemed all rituals failed.

"OK but if they just fail on their own why was she worried about the Eye's ritual? Why bother trying to burn down the archives?" Basira asked after Gerry played the tape for everyone.

"Maybe she was trying to hurt Elias?" Melanie suggested.

"Burning statements hurt Jon, maybe it hurt Elias too? " 

"Maybe?" Jon agreed, he honestly didn't know how to feel about the rituals always failing on their own. Obviously it was a good thing but all the human suffering that went into them seemed even more of a waste somehow.

Apart from Gerry going through the backlog of Gertrude's tapes Basria had everyone focus on more recent statements. She felt the priority of the institute should be to try and help people who could still be saved, not catalogue horrible things that had happened years, decades sometimes even centuries ago.

Basira had really taken to her role as head of the Institute. And she really shook things up. The Magnus Institute has always been very passive. A place to study to the supernatural, to record it, to categorize and store. But Basira took a much more hands on approach. The focus shifted to helping people who were suffering from supernatural problems. Not just observing them. Not just recording them. Actually helping people who were currently being affected and trying to save them. 

To achieve this Basira recruited many Hunt touched police officers and ex-police officers. She worked hard to maintain a good relationship with the London police and the sectioned officers. There was a lot of mixed feelings about this at the institute but Basira always pointed out to her critics; The Hunt was going to hunt anyway, why not make use of it? 

One day Trevor Herbert and Julia Montauk showed up in Basira's office with the decapitated head of a monster, dripping blood all over the institute floors and demanding to see Jonathan Sims.

"We just want to have a friendly little chat with him." Trevor said, his voice menacingly jovial. 

"We lend him out resource, out of the goodness of our hearts and he nicks it and runs off! That little weasel." 

"And he's been haunting our dreams ever since." Julia snarled.

"Hmm, yeah I get that you want to kill him, it's kind of a popular request...but instead how about I give you jobs here at the institute." Basira told them.

They both glared at her in stunned silence.

"If you are employees Jon can't get into your dreams." Basira explained.

"And you will get paid to do exactly what you are doing now. Plus we can give you leads on monsters. I can even get you out of trouble with the police within reason." Basira told them.

"We could get hotel rooms more often if we get paid." Julia said dreamily.

"You can claim things like that as expenses even." Basira agreed.

"I don't know Jules." Trevor grumbled.

"What about our resource? We want it back." he insisted.

Basira's eyes narrowed, she was more fond of Gerry than probably anyone besides Daisy. 

"That won't be possible but you will have access to the institutes resources. Anything you need us to research, any information you need, just call."

The hunters mulled this over for a while then eventually agreed and sighed a contract.

"Oh and for future reference, monsters are to be bought in through the trade entrance." Basira, frowning pointedly at the bloody head on her office floor.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thanks so much everyone for reading and leaving comments. Writing this fic has really helped me through a difficult time, I have been really isolated and sometimes the only way I felt any connection to other people was through a kind comment or seeing how many people had read my work.

Things had been going well since Gerry became corporeal. He was still a little restricted in what he could do, he couldn't be too far away from his page, he couldn't eat or drink. But he could taste and smell and touch so things like cooking and being part of meals together with his boyfriends were a lot more enjoyable for him now. Not that he didn't enjoy them before. But now he could be present in a way that made him feel much more connectedd with his partners and the world he was in. He found he actually even quite enjoyed cooking. It wasn't something he'd ever really learned to do. His mother had hardly been the maternal, teach you useful life skills type after all.

Gerry didn't usually cook personally but he did enjoy hanging out with whoever was cooking, chatting and doing various small, helpful tasks. He liked how different all his boyfriends were in the kitchen, it was fascinating to him because he never had the chance before to really get to know people, to know their little idiosyncrasies and habits. For someone who had to be constantly reminded to eat Jon was a surprisingly good cook. He liked to cook with fragrant spices and oils and would info dump about the ingredients or cooking techniques he was using. Martin cooked perfectly edible if somewhat bland food because that was what he had had to cook for his mother. But he was branching out and learning new dishes. Tim was a complete disaster in the kitchen. He was wildly experimental and refused to follow recipes. He often burnt or undercooked meals. Jon would watch him with trepidation from just outside the kitchen, trying to give him advice and struggling not to just kick Tim out and take over.

Gerry also loved being able to finally physically interact with his boyfriends. They were all very tactile with each other, all being touch starved for various reasons. Tim was very big into physical affection. Martin was just soooo huggable. And Jon, well, Gerry had heard that Jon was prickly and uptight and hated to be touched, but he could barely believe it. They were all constantly touching Jon. Not in a harassing or disrespectful way. Well, Tim could seem a bit disrespectful in the way he sometimes picked Jon up and moved him out of the way in the kitchen when Jon was cooking and Tim needed to get a glass or get to the sink. But Jon never seemed that bothered. Once he had been chopping vegetables and chatting with Gerry when Tim, wanting the get into the cupboard Jon was blocking simple picked him up and moved him then picked him up and put him back once he was done. Jon continued chopping and talking, leaning a little awkwardly to continue his task, he barely seemed to noticed.

Martin always had some part of his body touching Jon if he could, like he was worried the man would disappear if he wasn't in direct physical contact. He would sit sext to Jon on the couch with their knees touching. They always held hands when they walked. They almost always slept snuggled together even though Jon was a really annoying person to share a bed with. Even Gerry found himself drawn to touching Jon in many situations he wouldn't usually with anyone else. Jon just seemed so small and fragile, almost waifish. Gerry needed to reassure himself that Jon was really there, that he was safe and well. He often felt the urge to check Jon's temperature. Sometimes he was subtle about it, grazing his fingers across Jon's forehead as he brushed away a stray lock of hair. Softly and with great care while Jon slept Gerry would cup a hand to his cheek Or sometimes when Jon looked particularly bushed Gerry would just blatantly slap a hand across his brow. For so much of the first few months of knowing Jon he had been burning with fever or much too cold and there had been nothing Gerry could do about it. Sometimes Jon would scowl or protest indignantly that he was fine, but he always leaned in to Gerry's touch.

After not having any near death experiences for a few months Jon was getting much healthier. He was still a little skinny, a little run down but he didn't faint at the drop of a hat anymore, or get out of breath going up a flight of stairs. Tim was also doing much better, he still had bad days were the Lonely or the memories of everything he had been through got to him and he became despondent and withdrawn. But they were all patient and supportive, giving him space when he asked for it, and giving him care and distraction when he didn't. He started seeing a therapist and getting back into his fitness, the episodes got less and less frequent. Going back to research seemed to help him a lot. Tim had some new friends in the department who hadn't been through so much horror and it was refreshing for him. It was nice to not always have to think about it. 

Martin was also planning a new career. Basira had implemented a counselling service for the institute for staff who had been through trauma because of their work. It had been a very successful project. Martin had approached her with the idea to look at expanding the project to include counselling for traumatized statement givers. He reasoned that it could be quite difficult for victims of the supernatural to find appropriate therapy, because they would either have to hide what happened or it would be assumed they were suffering delusions or hallucinations or lying. Martin wanted to study psychology part time and eventually work as a therapist within the institute. Basira thought it was a good idea but she would have to look into funding. In the meantime he had started doing a few courses and had been enjoying them. 

After a morning of study Martin had come into the archives to meet Jon for lunch. Tim was already there, sitting on Jon's desk and telling him some absurd story that had Jon caught between laughing and scowling. 

"Marto! How's the study going?" Tim asked when he saw Martin.

"Good, great. It's hard but I really like it. It's funny I never really thought about what I wanted to do, at first I was just trying to get enough to keep my mother out of the public system, then I thought I'd just have to be an archival assistant forever." He told Tim.

"Oh not that that...I mean I don't mind..." Martin stammered nervously.

"It's fine." Jon told him quickly.

"I'm pleased you've found a way to be happy here." Jon reassured him.

"Aw you're such a softy these days." Tim said fondly ruffling Jon's hair. 

Jon scowled at him.

"Where is Gerry? I'm starving." Tim complained, they were all meeting to go out for lunch together.

"He'll be along in a minute he's just finishing up a tape of Gertrude's." Jon explained.

Even as he said it Gerry entered the room. He was indeed holding one of Gertrude's tapes but it was his face they all noticed. He had clearly been crying, his black eye makeup had bled down his pale face. He looked stricken, like, for want of a better expression, he had seen a ghost.

"Gerry, what happened?" Martin asked him taking him gently by the shoulder and leading him to an empty chair.

"My father." Gerry told him, his voice flat, shocked. He wordlessly passed the tape he was holding to Jon.

Jon put it in the tape recorder on his desk and pressed play.

Gerry sat silent as the others listened to the statement of Eric Delano.

When the tape ended they all sat there a moment in palpable shock.

"I'm so sorry Gerry." Jon told the ghost, taking his hand.

Gerry sighed and shook his head sadly.

"I knew my mother killed him, I just never knew... I never knew he cared about me like that. He blinded himself for me, so he could leave the institute and look after me. And all he asked from Gertrude, after everything she did to him, all he asked was for her to find me and make sure I was alright." Gerry said bitterly.

"And instead she used you just like she used your dad." Martin said angrily.

Gerry nodded. He didn't know how to deal with this. If he had found a tape explaining his father had suffered and died, it would have been rough but he would have known how to cope. But finding out his father had loved him, had cared for him more than anything? More than his own health and safety, more than his vision, more than getting revenge. He didn't know how to deal with this information. It hurt in a new way, a way he wasn't used to. 

"She had this tape that whole time." Gerry said softly.

"She never told me, she never even mentioned she knew him." 

Tim gathered Gerry carefully into a hug.

"I'm so sorry. We could do something for him if you'd like? A memorial?" He offered.

Gerry shook his head sadly.

"I don't remember him. I never had the chance. This was the first time I ever even heard his voice." Gerry told them then began to weep again. 

Tim and Martin held him and tried to comfort him as much as they could. Jon watched the three of them and felt such unbearable rage towards Gertrude and Mary Keay he could barely stand it. They hadn't deserved Gerry. The fact that he had managed to turn out such a kind person despite having such heartless remodels was frankly astounding. 

Eventually Jon called Basira and told her she need to come to the archives and bring to Daisy, they had found something important. He also called Melanie and asked her to come. Melanie still refused to do much work around the archives. She often spent her days in the library, sometimes doing the odd bit of research if Jon asked nicely or if it was something that took her interest, but often she just pleased herself. She had never accepted that she would just be trapped in the institute forever. She was not on board with Basira's use of the Hunt to fight back at the supernatural. They argued about it a lot at first and then took to avoiding each other. So when they all met in the archives there was a tense atmosphere.

"What happened?" Melanie asked anxiously when she saw how upset Gerry was. Gerry was the one person who was universally liked and respected by everyone. Georgie and Melanie both adored him, and he frequently spent time at their apartment. 

"I think it will be easiest if I just play the tape." Gerry sighed and listened to his dead father speak for a third time. 

When the tape was done Melanie heard, as if from far away, Daisy and Basira console Gerry. And she knew she should too, what happened to his father had been awful, but there was only one thought that had taken up all the available space in her mind and she couldn't see around it.

"I'm going to do it." She said bluntly.

"We should all think about it carefully before we make decisions." Basira said diplomatically.

"Oh would you shut up!" Melanie hissed at her.

"You obviously don't want to leave, your too busy becoming the next Gertrude, or worse, Elias." Melanie accused.

"Watch it." Basira told her, coldly angry.

"Tim, you are going to leave at least? Surely?" Melanie asked him eagerly.

Tim looked pained.

"I need to think about it." He hedged.

"What is there to think about? This place is still evil. No matter how much you want to pretend we are doing good here." Melanie snapped outraged.

"We save people." Basira argued.

"We stop evil, viscous, terrifying things and save innocent people. How is that evil?" Basira demanded.

"Because we do it to feed Eldritch fear entities, how can that possibly be anything other than evil?" Melanie spat. 

"You're all just deluding yourselves because you don't want to face up to it." Melanie told them.

"You're acting like we torture people. Just last week we saved a family of four from an avatar or the Spiral. Do you seriously have an issue with that? " Martin asked her, a little exasperated.

"Whatever." Melanie huffed. 

"Just because you can't handle the job doesn't mean you can just shit all over the work we are doing." Basira seethed. 

"Look let's not argue about this now." Jon interrupted, holding his scarred hands up to placate them both. He knew there was some truth in both of their arguments. Basira's running of the Institute wasn't entirely altruistic, she enjoyed serving both the eye and the Hunt, whether she wanted to admit it or not. And Melanie was unable to cope with being trapped.

"We all need time to think this over." Jon told them. 

Melanie didn't need to think it over. She blinded herself that same afternoon, taking an awl from the binding room to both her eyes. Georgie was horrified, but she understood when Melanie explained that she had done it to get away from the institute. 

"Is it selfish of me that I don't want to do it?" Martin asked his boyfriends later than evening. They were all sitting around the living room. trying to both comfort Gerry and discuss the possibility of them all leaving the institute behind. 

"Of course not." Gerry told him.

"No, I feel the same way." Tim agreed.

"If I found out about this last year there would be no question but now...I just found a way to be happy where I am." Tim sighed.

"What about you Jon?" Martin asked, Jon had been quiet on the topic, just listening to everyone else.

"I-I don't know." Jon said timidly.

"It might make you sick, anything that messes with your connection to the institute effects you badly." Martin pointed out.

"well maybe... but maybe I wouldn't be dependent on statements anymore if I do it, and I would just be a-a person again." He said hopefully.

"Jon please don't just do this out of guilt." Gerry told him.

"Gerry is right, do it if you want to be free of the institute but not just because people have made you feel like a monster." Tim agreed.

Jon fidgeted nervously.

"I know you don't like me saying it, but I am scared of losing my humanity." Jon told them. "It's not an unreasonable fear..."

He looked fragile again to Gerry and he reached out to stroke his hair, to comfort him.

"If this is something you want to do, we'll be there for you." He assured Jon.

"Of course we will." Martin agreed. 

"We'll do whatever we can to help you adjust." 

Tim sighed and nodded grimly.

"Well yeah, obviously, I just hate that you still think you are a monster, after everything. But of course we will look after you if you go through with it."

Jon gave him a small, strained smile. 

"I don't know...I-I like my job now, I know Melanie thinks it's evil but I think Basira is right, we are helping people. And I don't want to be blind." Jon admitted.

"You don't have to do it right now." Martin pointed out.

"Yeah, that's true, none of us do." Tim agreed, warming to the idea. "Things are ok right now, but if they get bad again, well we have a strategy." 

So they decided, they would all stay for the time being, but one day they would all leave, and they would accept the consequences that came with leaving together. It made sense that they should all stay or all go, otherwise they would always have some reason to be tied to the institute. At the time being all four of them were content to stay. But it didn't hurt to plan an escape route for the future.

They would have to stagger leaving, one at a time so that they could look after the newly blinded person and help them get used to their new reality. After discussing it at length they decided Jon would go first. He was most likely to be badly effected by severing his connection to the eye. It was sensible therefore for both Martin and Tim to be healthy and able to drive if he needed a lot of medical support at first. Tim would go next, he was fit and strong and likely cope well physically. But he didn't know how he would take it mentally and felt he would benefit from having Jon to teach him the ropes, and Martin still able to drive and lead him around if need be. Martin wanted to go last so he could take care of both Tim and Jon as much as possible. He had already seen a family member learning to cope with a loss of physical ability. He knew it would likely be harder on them than they expected, he felt he was the most qualified to help them through it. 

Gerry of course did not need to blind himself. He was not bound to the Eye but to the End. There was only one way out for him. He hadn't talked to them about it yet but he had an idea he would probably leave when they all did. Not right away. He would wait until they seemed settled and content. As happy as he was in his current form and circumstance he couldn't fully shake the feeling of wrongness his existence bought. It hurt in ways he couldn't quite pin down, he couldn't explain. He didn't want to. He just wanted to see his friends safe from the supernatural, then he would remove the last thread of it from their lives. It didn't scare him, but he didn't mind that it didn't seem to be happening in the immediate future. 

Life went on. They did have a memorial service for Gerry's father. They found his grave and covered it in fresh flowers. They thanked him for providing them with a way to leave the institute if they wanted. Gerry told his father's silent, flower covered grave about his life, he thanked him for trying to be there for him and told him that although he couldn't remember him, Gerry was sure that whatever sense of righteousness or kindness he possessed must have come from his father, because it certainly hadn't come from his mother, and he liked to think it would have made his father proud. 

Tim worked on repairing his relationship with his father. They had drifted apart after Danny died. He started calling him once a week. At first his father was confused, suspicious. But soon they both looked forward to these calls. 

Martin also decided to find his father. Jon was able to Know where the man was. But it didn't seem like he was a very good person, he had continued his pattern and he had left a string of abandoned partners and children if his wake. Martin felt a horrible mixture of relief and depression at finding this out. Relief because he hadn't missed out on having this damaging person in his life. And depression for obvious reasons. 

"Do you want to meet your brothers and sisters?" Jon asked him. 

"No. Maybe one day, when we all leave the institute, but for now, I'm sure they have their own troubles without me potentially dragging the supernatural into their lives." Martin told him. 

Privately Martin wasn't sure he wanted to ever meet them. In his experience the best family was the one you chose.

Jon woke up late to a cool hand on his forehead. He knew it was Gerry without opening his eyes. Gerry's hands were always cold. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Gerry told him when he saw Jon's eyes flutter open.

"S'fine, I need to get up anyway." Jon told him around a yawn, clasping his hands together and stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped.

"I'm fine." Jon told Gerry when he noticed the ghost was watching him with faint concern.

"It's just not like you to sleep in, even Martin getting up didn't wake you." Gerry told him. 

"I just didn't sleep well last night." Jon told him, getting up and rifling through the drawers to find clean clothes. 

"Nightmares?" Gerry guessed.

"No more than usual." Jon sighed.

"Just felt restless, I don't know why."

"maybe because Tim and I will be away for a while?" Gerry guessed, he sat on the bed and braided and unbraided his long hair absently while while waiting for Jon to get dressed. 

"I do worry about the two of you chasing after those horrible books." Jon admitted.

Gerry and Tim had gotten a lead on a book from the library of Jürgen Leitner and would be away for several days tracking it down and either destroying it or bringing it back to the institute for safe storage.

"We'll be fine, we are professionals after all." Gerry told him.

"I know." Jon told him.

"But you know how I feel about those books.'' Jon couldn't suppress a shiver.

They went down to the kitchen and found Tim leaning against the kitchen bench eating cereal with one hand and making coffee with the other. Martin had apparently already left.

"Well, well, well, Jonathan Sim's sleeping in, I don't believe it." Tim teased. 

"I know, I know, I better be off. Good luck with the book and stay safe, don't take any unnecessary risks." Jon told Tim, hugging him one armed to avoid the cereal bowl and standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Oh and where are you sneaking off to?" Tim asked, quickly putting the bowl down and wrapping both arms around Jon in a hug from behind as he made to leave.

Jon squeaked indignantly as Tim lifted him up with the hug and carried him across the kitchen.

"I'm going to work, I'm already running late." Jon told him, struggling halfheartedly.

"Nope, not until you eat breakfast." Tim chided him and plonked him down at the dining table.

Jon scowled at him but obediently poured himself some cereal, his boyfriends were pretty insistent about him eating three meals a day and he knew better then to try and argue. In their defense Jon had been pretty rubbish at remembering to eating regularly himself recently.

Tim sat at the table with him to finish his cereal. 

"I for one fully support you being late to work." Tim told him with a mouth full. 

Jon huffed. He ate a few bites of cereal but didn't really feel like eating and mostly pushed the food around until it was mushy and unappealing then threw it out when Tim was distracted with his coffee.

"Call if you need any help." He told Tim as he was saying goodbye.

"We will." Tim told him.

"Or if you find out anything new." Jon added.

"We will." Gerry assured him.

"And just to check in." Jon added.

"Christ when did you become such a worry wort?" Tim asked grinning.

"I _always_ worried, I just used to pretend I didn't." Jon admitted. 

"Well try not to fret too much, I'll keep an eye on Tim, and I'm already dead so not much worse can happen to me really." Gerry told him.

At work Jon ran into Daisy on his way down to the archives. He was pleased to see her, they hadn't had a chance to catch up much recently. 

Daisy was still looking a little weak, like she had gone too long without a wholesome meal. She had been working at helping to track down witnesses and missing persons from statements. It fed the Hunt just enough to slow her decline but she wasn't getting any stronger. But she seemed in good spirits. 

"You know Catharine Ryan that woman who went missing after the having a run in with a Stranger avatar in Bristol last February?" She asked Jon as she walked with him down to the archives.

"Yes, I remember." Jon agreed.

"We found her, she's alright, well she has memory problems and is very confused but she's back with her family now." Daisy explained.

Jon congratulated her then they parted ways.

Jon had gotten settled at his desk when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Yes come in." Jon called.

Martin came in with a brown paper bag and a cup of tea.

"Morning." He said with a slightly teasing grin.

"I can't believe you didn't wake me." Jon grumbled accepting the tea eagerly.

"You looked peaceful." Martin defended himself.

"Here I got you a muffin, Tim said you didn't eat breakfast." Martin told him pushing the brown paper bag towards him.

"I did." Jon said indignantly.

Martin gave him a stern look. 

Jon grumbled but obediently began to pick the muffin apart and eat bits of it. He knew it worried his partners but he had been feeling less and less apatite for food recently. He doubted he really even needed it anymore.

"What do you have planned for today?" He asked Martin while he ate.

"Oh well, I am going to a class this morning, but I'll be back in time for lunch, we can eat together if you like." Martin told him.

Jon nodded vaguely.

"Maybe we could get sandwiches and eat in the park if the weather stays nice." Martin suggested.

"Yes, why not." Jon agreed.

"Alright I'll let you get to your real breakfast." Martin teased lightly, getting up and planting a quick kiss on Jon's cheek as he bid him goodbye.

Jon smiled at him fondly as he let himself out.

As soon as Martin was gone Jon threw out the remains of the muffin and got up to get a statement to read instead. He selected a statement at random from a pile that seemed to particularly call to him and settled at his desk to read. The tape recorder clicked on and Jon took a sip of tea and began.

"Statement of Hazel Rutter regarding a fire in her childhood home. Original statement given August 9th, 1992. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist." Jon read.

"Statement begins."


End file.
